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MARION  HARLAND'S  WORKS. 


1. — ALONE. 
2.— HIDDEN  PATH. 
3.— MOSS  SIDE.- 
4.— NEMESIS. 
6. — MIRIAM. 

6. — THE  EMPTY  HE  ART.  •* 

7.— HELEN  GARDNEB. 

8.—  SUNNYBANK.  - 

9.— HUSBANDS  AND  HOMES. 
10. — RUBY'S  HUSBAND. 
11. — PHEMIE'S  TEMPTATION. 

12. — AT  LAST. 

13.— TRUE  AS  STEEL.  - 

14.— JESSAMINE.  ~ 

15.— FBOM  MY  YOUTH  UP.      (New.) 


'The  Novels  of  Marion  Harland  are  of  surpassing  ex- 
cellence.   By  intrinsic  power  of  character-draw- 
ing and  descriptive  facility,  they  hold 
the  reader's  attention  with  the 
most  intense  interest 


All  published  uniform  with  this  volume.     Price  $1.60 
each,  and  sent/ree  by  mail,  on  receipt  of  price, 

BY 
G.  W.  CAKXETON  &  CO., 

New  York. 


THE  EMPTY  HEART; 

OB, 
HUSKS. 

"FOR    BETTER,    FOR   WORSE." 


BY 

MAKION 


AUTHOR  Or 

HIDDEN  PATH,"   "NEMESIS,"    "MOSS-SIDE,"   "MIB1AM,"   "HI 
GARDNER,"   "  SUNNYBANK,"   "HUSBANDS  AND  HOMES,"   "BUSY'S 
HUSBAND,"   "  PHEMIE'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


NEW   YORK: 

Carleton,  Publisher,  Madison  Sqtiare. 

LONDON  I    S.  LOW,  SON,  &   CO. 
MDCCCLXXV. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1670,  bf 

II   VIRGINIA  TERHUNE, 

la  the  Clerk's  Offlot  U  toa  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Soother* 
District  of  New  York. 


JOHN  F.  TROW  &  SON,  PRINTERS, 
205-213  EAST  i2TH  ST.,   Nnw  YoK 


?$> 


HUSKS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

IT  was  a  decided  uncompromising  rainy  day.  There 
were  no  showers,  coquetted  with  by  veering  winds  or 
dubious  mists,  that  at  times  grew  brighter,  as  if  the  sun 
were  burning  away  their  lining ;  but  a  uniform  expanse  of 
iron-gray  clouds — kept  in  close,  grim  column  by  a  steady, 
although  not  violent  east  wind — sent  straight  lines  of  heavy 
ram  upon  the  earth.  The  naked  trees,  that,  during  the 
earlier  hours  of  the  deluge  had  seemed  to  shiver  for  the 
immature  leaf-buds,  so  unfit  to  endure  the  rough  handling 
of  the  storm,  now  held  out  still,  patient  arms,  the  rising  sap 
curdled  within  their  hearts.  The  gutters  were  brimming 
streams,  and  the  sidewalks  were  glazed  with  thin  sheets  of 
water. 

The  block  of  buildings  before  which  our  story  pauses, 
was,  as  a  glance  would  have  showed  the  initiated  in  the 
grades  of  Gotham  life,  highly  respectable,  even  in  the  ram. 
On  a  clear  day  when  the  half-folded  blinds  revealed  th 
lace,  silken,  and  damask  draperies  within;  when  younj, 
misses  and  masters — galvanized  show-blocks  of  purple  and 
fine  linen,  that  would  have  passed  muster  behind  the  plate- 
glass  of  Genin  or  Madame  Demorest — tripped  after  hoops, 
or  promenaded  the  smooth  pavement ;  when  pretty,  jaunty 
one-horse  carriages,  and  more  pretentious  equipages,  each 
with  a  pair  of  prancing  steeds,  and  two  "outside  pas- 


832729 


8  THE    EMPTY     HEART;     OR, 

sengers"  in  broadcloth  and  tinsel  hat-bands,  recehed  and 
discharged  their  loads  before  the  brown-stone  fronts — had 
the  afore-mentioned  spectator  chanced  to  perambulate  thia 
not  spacfous  street,  he  would  have  conceded  to  it  some 
degree  of  the  fashion  claimed  for  it  by  its  inhabitants. 
There  were  larger  houses  and  wider  pavements  to  be  had 
for  the  same  price  a  few  blocks  further  on,  in  more  than  one 
direction,  but  these  were  unanimously  voted  "less  eligible" 
and  "  deficient  hi  style,"  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  as  good 
and  better  materials  were  employed  in  their  Construction, 
and  they  were  in  all  respects  equal  in  external  show  and 
inside  finish  to  those  in  this  model  quarter.  "  But  our 
block  has  a  certain  air — well — I  don't  know  what ;  but  it 
is  just  the  thing,  you  know,  and  so  convenient !  So  near 
the  Avenue !"  would  be  the  concluding  argument. 

The  nameless,  indescribable  charm  of  the  locality  lay  in 
the  last  clause.  "  Just  step  around  the  corner  and  you  are 
in  the  Avenue,"  said  the  favored  dwellers  in  this  vicinity, 
as  the  climax  in  the  description  of  their  abode,  and  "  that 
way  fashion  lies"  to  every  right-minded  New  Yorker  of  the 
feminine  gender. 

But  the  aristocratic  quiet  of  the  neighborhood,  rendered 
oppressive  and  depressing  by  the  gloom  of  the  day,  was 
disturbed  by  a  discordant  sound— a  child's  cry ;  and  what 
was  especially  martyrizing  to  refined  auriculars,  the  lament 
had  the  unmistakable  plebeian  accent.  The  passionate 
scream  with  which  the  pampered  darling  of  the  nursery 
resents  interference  with  his  rights  and  liberty  of  tyranny, 
or  the  angry  remonstrance  of  his  injured  playmates,  would 
have  been  quite  another  species  of  natural  eloquence,  as 
regards  both  quality  and  force,  from  the  weak,  broken  wail 
that  sobbed  along  the  wet  streets.  Moreover,  what  re- 
spectable child  could  be  abroad  on  foot  in  this  weather  I 
So,  the  disrespectable  juvenile  pursued  her  melancholy  way 


unnoticed  and  unquestioned  until  she  reached  the  middle 
of.  the  square.  There  a  face  appeared  at  a  window  in  tho 
second  story  of  a  house — which  only  differed  from  those  to 
its  right,  left  and  opposite  in  the  number  upon  the  door — 
vanished,  and  in  half  a  minute  more  a  young  lady  appeared 
in  the  sheltered  vestibule. 

;'  "W  hat  is  the  matter,  little  girl  ?" 

The  tone  was  not  winning,  yet  the  sobs  ceased,  and  the 
child  looked  up,  as  to  a  friendly  questioner*  She  was  about 
eleven  years  of  age,  if  one  had  judged  from  her  size  and 
form  ;  but  her  features  were  pinched  into  unnatural  maturity. 
Her  attire  was  wretched,  at  its  best  estate;  now,  soaked 
by  the  rain,  the  dingy  hood  drooped  over  her  eyes ;  the 
dark  cotton  shawl  retained  not  one  of  its  original  colors, 
and  the  muddy  dress  flapped  and  dripped  about  her  ankles. 
Upon  one  foot  she  wore  an  old  cloth  gaiter,  probably 
picked  up  from  an  ash-heap ;  the  remains  of  a  "more  sorry 
slipper  were  tied  around  the  other. 

"  I  am  so  cold  and  wet,  and  my  matches  is  all  sp'ilt !" 
she  answered  in  a  dolorous  tone,  lifting  the  corner  of  a 
scrap  of  oil-cloth,  which  covered  a  basket,  tucked  for  further 
security,  under  her  shawl. 

"  No  wonder !  What  else  could  you  expect,  if  you 
would  go  out  to  sell  them  on  a  day  like  this  ?  Go  down 
into  the  area,  there,  and  watt  until  I  let  you  in." 

The  precaution  was  a  wise  one.  No  servant  in  that  well- 
regulated  household, would  have  admitted  so  questionable  a 
6gure  as  that  which  crept  after  their  young  mistress  into 
the  comfortable  kitchen.  The  cook  paused  in  the  act  of 
dissecting  a  chicken ;  the  butler — on  carriage  days,  tho 
footman — checked  his  flirtation  with  the  plump  and  laugh- 
ing chambermaid,  to  stare  at  the  wretched  apparition. 
The  scrutiny  of  the  first  named  functionary  was  speedily 
diverted  to  the  dirty  trail  left  by  the  intruder  upon  the 
1* 


10  THE  EMPTY   HEART;   OB, 

carpet.  A  scowl  puckered  her  red  face,  and  her  wrathful 
glance  included  both  of  the  visitants  as  alike  guilty  of  this 
desecration  of  her  premises.  The  housemaid  rolled  up  her 
eyes  and  clasped  her  hands  in  dumb  show  of  horror  and 
contempt,  to  her  gallant,  who  replied  with  a  shrug  and  a 
grin.  But  not  a  word  of  remonstrance  or  inquiry  was 
spoken.  It  was  rather  a  habit  of  this  young  lady's  to  have 
her  own  way  whenever  she  could,  and  that  she  was  bent 
upon  doing  this  now  was  clear. 

"  Sit  down  !"  she  said,  bringing  up  a  chair  to  the  fire. 

The  storm-beaten  wanderer  obeyed,  and  eagerly  held  up 
her  sodden  feet  to  the  red  grate. 

"  Have  you  no  better  shoes  than  those  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Humph !     Nor  dress — nor  shawl  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Are  you  hungry  ?" 

A  ray  shot  from  the  swollen  eyes.     "  Yes,  ma'am  !" 

The  lady  disappeared  in  the  pantry  and  presently  re- 
turned with  five  or  six  slices  of  bread  and  butter  hastily  cut 
and  thickly  spread,  with  cheese  and  cold  meat  between 
them. 

"Eat!"  She  thrust  them  into  the  match-girl's  fingers. 
"  "Wait  here,  while  I  go  and  look  for  some  clothes  for  you." 

As  may  be  supposed,  the  insulted  oracle  of  kitchen  mys- 
teries improved  the  time  of  the  benefactress's  absence  by  a 
very  plain  expression  of  her  sentiments  towards»beggars  in 
general,  and  this  one  in  particular ;  which  harangue  was 
received  with  applause  by  her  fellow-servants,  and  perfect , 
equanimity  by  its  object.  She  munched  her  sandwiches 
with  greedy  satisfaction,  watching,  the  while,  the  little 
clouds  of  steam  that  ascended  from  her  heated  toes.  She 
was,  to  all  appearance,  neither  a  sensitive  nor  intelligent 
shild,  and  had  known  too  much  of  animal  want  and  suffer- 


H  TJ  8  K  8  .  11 

ing  to  allow  trifles  to  spoil  her  enjoyment  of  whatever 
physical  comfort  fell  to  her  lot.  Her  mother  af  home 
could  scold  quite  as  virulently  as  the  cook  was  now  doing, 
and  she  was  more  afraid  of  her  anger,  because  she  beat 
while  sbe  berated  her.  She  was  convinced  that  she  stood 
m  no  such  peril  here,  for  her  protectress  was  one  in  power. 

"  Have  you  eaten  enough  ?"  said  the  clear,  abrupt  voice 
behind  her,  as  she  held  two  sandwiches  in  her  fingers, 
without  offering  to  put  them  to  her  lips. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.     May  I  take  'em  home  ?" 

"  Certainly,  if  you  like.  Stand  up,  and  take  off  your 
shawl." 

She  put  around  the  forlorn  figure  a  thick  cloak,  rusty  and 
obsolete  in  fashion,  but  which  was  a  warm  and  ample 
covering  for  the  child,  extending  to  the  hem  of  her  dress. 
The  damp  elf-locks  were  hidden  by  a  knitted  hood  ;  and,  for 
the  feet,  there  were  stockings  and  shoes,  and  a  pair  of 
India-rubbers  to  protect  these  last  from  the  water. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Humane  Society  of  One,  when  the 
refitting  was  at  an  end,  "  where  do  you  live?  Never  mind  ! 
I  don't  care  to  know  that  yet!  Here  is  a  small  umbrella — 
a  good  one — which  belongs  to  me.  I  have  no  other  for 
myself  when  I  go  out  in  bad  weather.  I  mean  to  lend  n  to 
you,  to-day,  upon  the  condition  that  you  will  bring  it  back 
to-morrow,  or  the  first  clear  day.  Will  you  do  it  ?" 

The  promise  was  readily  given. 

"Here's  an  old  thing,  Miss  Sarah  !"  ventured  the  butler, 
respectfully ;  producing  a  bulky,  ragged  cotton  umbrella 
from  a  corner  of  the  kitchen  closet.  "It's  risky — trusting 
Buch  as  that  with  your  nice  silk  one." 

"  That  will  let  in  the  rain,  and  is  entirely  too  large  for 
her  to  carry.  You  understand,  child  ?  You  are  to  bring 
this  safely  back  to  me,  the  first  time  the  sun  shines.  Can 
you  find  your  way  to  this  house  again  ?" 


12  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

"  Oil  yea,  ma'am,  easy !     Thank  you,  ma'am !" 

She  dropped  an  awkward  courtesy,  as  Miss  Sarah  heW 
open  the  door  for  her  to  pass,  and  went  out  into  the  rain-- 
warm, dry,  and  shielded  against  further  damage  from  the 
storm. 

Unheeding  the  significant  looks  of  the  culinary  cabinet, 
Sarah  Hunt  turned  away  and  ascended  the  stairs.  She  was 
a  striking-looking  girl,  although  her  features,  when  in 
repose,  could  claim  neither  beauty  of  form  nor  expression. 
Her  complexion  was  dark  and  pale,  with  a  slight  tinge  of 
olive,  and  her  hair  a  deep  brown,  lips  whose  compression 
was  habitual,  an  aquiline  nose,  and  eyes  that  changed  from 
dreamy  hazel  to  midnight  blackness  at  the  call  of  mind  or 
feeling,  gave  marked  character  to  her  countenance.  Her 
sententious  style  of  address  to  the  child  she  had  just  dis- 
missed was  natural,  and  usual  to  her  in  ordinary  conversa- 
tion, as  was  also  the  gravity,  verging  upon  sombreness,  which 
had  not  once  during  the  interview  relaxed  into  a  smile. 

The  family  sitting-room,  her  destination  at  present,  and 
to  which  we  will  take  the  liberty  of  preceding  her,  was 
furnished  elegantly  and  substantially;  and  there,  leaning 
back  in  lounging-chairs,  were  Miss  Lucy  Hunt,  the  eldest 
daughter  of  the  household,  and  her  bosom  friend,  Miss 
Victoria  West.  Each  held  and  wielded  a  crochet-needle, 
and  had  upon  her  lap  a  basket  of  many-hued  balls  of  double 
or  single  zephyr  worsted,  or  Shetland  or  Saxony  wool,  or 
whatever  was  the  fashionable  article  for  such  pretty  trifling 
at  that  date.  Miss  West  had  completed  one-quarter  of  a 
shawl  for  herself,  white  and  scarlet;  and  her  friend  had 
made  precisely  the  same  progress  in  the  arduous  manufac- 
ture of  one  wThose  centre  was  white  and  its  border  blue. 

"Yours  will  be  the  prettiest,"  remarked  Lucy  regret- 
fully. "  Blue  never  looks  well  in  worsteds.  Why,  I  can't 
say,  I'm  sure.  It  is  too  bad  that  I  can  wear  so  few  othei 


HUSKS.  13 

eoUi»  c. !  But  I  am  such  a  fright  in  pink,  or  scarlet,  or  any 
ghadfc  of  red !" 

"  Aa  if  you  could  be  a  fright  in  any  thing !"  returned  her 
companion,  with  seeming  indignation. 

Lucy  smiled,  showing  a  set  of  faultless  teeth  that,  to  a 
stranger's  first  glance,  wotild  have  appeared  by  far  the  most 
attractive  point  in  her  physiognomy.  If  closer  examination 
discovered  that  her  skin  was  pearly  in  whiteness  and  trans- 
parency, that  her  form  was  exquisite,  with  a  sort  of  volup- 
tuous grace;  her  hands  worthy,  in  shape  and  hue,  to 
become  a  sculptor's  model ;  still,  in  the  cold,  unflattering 
light  of  this  rainy  afternoon,  her  want  of  color,  her  light 
gray  eyes,  her  yellow  hair,  drawn  straight  back  from  the 
broad,  low  brow,  precluded  the  idea  that  she  could  ever, 
with  all  the  accessories  of  artificial  glare,  dress,  and  anima- 
tion, be  more  than  a  merely  pretty  girl.  Miss  West  knew 
better,  and  Lucy  realized  the  power  of  her  own  charms 
writh  full  and  complete  complacency.  Secure  in  this  pleas- 
ant self-appreciation,  she  could  afford  to  be  careless  as  to 
her  everyday  looks  and  home-people.  She  saw  and  enjoyed 
the  manifest  surprise  of  those  who,  having  seen  her  once  in 
morning  deshabille,  beheld  her  afterwards  in  elaborate 
evening  toilet.  Then  the  abundant  hair,  waved  in  golden 
ripples  aboxit  the  classic  head,  the  most  artfully  siftrple  of 
tasteful  ornaments — a  camellia,  a  rosebud,  or  a  pearl  hairpin, 
its  sole  adornment;  her  eyes,  large,  full,  and  soft,  were 
blue  instead  of  gray,  while  the  heat  of  the  assembly-room, 
the  excitement  of  the  crowd,  or  the  exultation  of  gratified 
vanity  supplied  the  rounded  cheek  with  rich  bloom,  and 
dewy  vermillion  to  the  lips.  But  nature's  rarest  gift  to  her 
was  her  voice,  a  mellow  contralto,  whose  skilful  modulations 
stole  refreshingly  to  the  senses  amid  the  sharp  clash  of 
strained  and  higher  tones,  the  castanet-like  jingle  which 
most  American  belles  ring  unmercifully  into  the  ears  of 


14  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OR, 

their  auditors.  Lucy  Hunt  was  not  "  a  great  talker,"  still 
less  was  she  piofound  or  brilliant  when  she  did  speak;  yet 
she  invariably  conveyed  the  impression  to  the  mind  of  a 
new  acquaintance  of  a  thoroughly  cultivated  woman,  one 
whose  acquirements  were  far  beyond  her  modest  exhibition 
of  thought  and  sentiment.  The  most  commonplace  phrase 
came  smoothly  and  roundly  from  her  tongue,  and  he  was 
censorious  indeed  who  was  willing  to  lose  the  pleasuse 
afforded  by  its  musical  utterance  in  weighing  its  meaning 
At  school  she  had  never  been  diligent,  except  in  the  study 
of  music,  and  her  pains-taking  in  this  respect  was  rewarded 
by  the  reputation,  justly  earned,  of  being  the  finest  vocalist 
in  her  circle  of  associates.  In  society  she  shone  as  a  rising 
star  of  the  first  magnitude ;  at  home  she  was  happy,  cheer 
ful,  and  indolently,  amiable.  Why  should  she  be  otherwise  ? 
From  her  babyhood  she  had  been  petted  and  admired  by 
her  family,  and  the  world — her  world — was  as  ready  with 
its  meed  of  the  adulation  which  was  her  element. 

There  were,  besides  the  two  sisters  already  introduced  to 
the  reader,  three  other  children  in  the  Hunt  household — a 
couple  of  sturdy  lads,  twelve  and  fourteen  years  of  age,  and 
little  Jeannie,  a  delicate  child  of  six,  whom  Lucy  caressed 
with  pet  titles  and  sugar-p^imbs  of  flattery,  and  Sarah 
served  in  secret  and  idolatrous  fondness.  This  family  it 
was  Mrs.  Hunt's  care  and  pride  to  rear  and  maintain,  not 
only  in  comfort,  but  apparent  luxury,  upon  the  salary  which 
her  husband  received  as  cashier  of  a  prominent  city  bank, 
an  income  sufficient  to  support  them  in  modest  elegance, 
but  which  few  besides  Mrs.  Hunt  could  have  stretched  to 
cover  the  expenses  of  their  ostensible  style  of  living.  But 
this  notable  manager  had  learned  economy  in  excellent 
schools ;  primarily  as  a  country  girl,  whose  holiday  finery 
was  purchased  with  the  proceeds  of  her  own  butter-making 
and  poultry-yard ;  then  as  the  brisk,  lively  wife  of  the 


HUSK  8.  15 

young  clerk,  whose  slender  salary  had,  up"  to  the  time  of 
his  marriage,  barely  sufficed  to  pay  for  his  own  board  and 
clothes,  and  whose  only  vested  capital  was  his  pen,  his  good 
character,  and  perfect  knowledge  of  book-keeping.  But  if 
his  help-meet  were  a  clever  housewife,  she  was  likewise  am- 
bitious. With  the  exception  of  the  sum  requisite  for  the 
yearly  payment  of  the  premium  upon  Mr.  Hunt's  life-in- 
surance policy,  their  annual  expenses  devoured  every  cent 
of  their  receipts.  Indeed,  it  was  currently  believed  among 
outsiders  that  they  had  other  resources  than  the  cashier's 
wages,  and  Mrs.  Hunt  indirectly  encouraged  the  report 
that  she  held  property  in  her  own  right.  They  lived  "  as 
their  neighbors  did,"  as  "  everybody  in  their  position  in 
society  was  bound  to  do,"  and  "  everybody"  else  was  too 
intent  upon  his  personal  affairs,  too  busy  with  his  private 
train  of  plans  and  operations  to  examine  closely  the  cogs, 
and  levers,  and  boilers  of  the  locomotive  Hunt.  If  it  went 
ahead,  and  kept  upon  the  track  assigned  it,  was  always  "  up 
to  time,"  and  avoided  unpleasant  collisions,  it  was  nobody's 
business  how  the  steam  was  gotten  up. 

Every  human  plant  of  note  has  its  parasite,  and  Miss 
Lucy  Hunt  was  not  without  hers.  There  existed  no  reason 
in  the  outward  circumstances  of  the  two  girls  why  Miss 
Hunt  should  not  court  Miss  West,  rather  than  Miss  West 
toady  Miss  Hunt.  In  a  business — that  is,  a  pecuniary — 
point  of  view,  the  former  appeared  the  more  likely  state  oi 
the  case,  inasmuch  as  Victoria's  father  was  a  stock-broker 
of  reputed  wealth,  and  with  a  probable  millionaireship  in 
prospective,  if  his  future  good  fortune  equalled  his  past, 
while  Mr.  Hunt,  as  has  been  stated,  depended  entirely  upon 
a  certain  and  not  an  extravagant  stipend.  But  the  girls 
became  intimate  at  school,  "  came  out"  the  same  winter  at 
the  same  party,  where  >Lucy  created  a  "  sensation,"  and 
Victoria  would  have  been  overlooked  but  for  the  sentimen- 


16  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OR, 

tal  connection  between  the  debutantes.  Since  then,  although 
the  confidante  would  have  scouted  the  imputation  of  inter- 
ested motives  with  virtuous  indignation  of  wounded  affec- 
tion, she  had  nevertheless  "  made  a  good  thing  of  it,"  as 
her  respected  father  would  have  phrased  it,  by  playing 
hanger-on,  second  fiddle,  and  trumpeter-general  to  the 
belle. 

"  As  if  you  could  he  a  fright  in  any  thing !"  she  had  said 
naturally,  and  perhaps  sincerely. 

Lucy's  smile  was  succeeded  by  a  serious  look.  "  I  am 
sadly  tempted  sometimes !  Those  lovely  peach-blossom 
hats  that  you  and  Sarah  wore  this  past  winter  were  abso- 
lute trials  to  my  sense  of  right !  And  no  longer  ago  than 
Mrs.  Grossman's  party  I  was  guilty  of  the  sin  of  coveting 
the  complexion  that  enabled  Maria  Johnston  to  wear  that 
sweet  rose-colored  silk,  with  the  lace  skirt  looped  with 
rosebuds." 

"  You  envy  Maria  Johnston's  complexion  ?  Why  don't 
you  go  further,  and  fall  in  love  with  her  small  eyes  and  pug 
nose  ?"  inquired  Victoria,  severely  ironical.  "1  have  heard 
that  people  were  never  contented  with  their  own  gifts,  but 
such  a  case  of  blindness  as  this  has  never  before  come  under 
ray  observation." 

"No,  no  !  I  am  not  quite  so  humble  with  regard  to  my 
personal  appearance  as  you  would  make  out.  Yet" — and 
the  plaintive  voice  might  have  been  the  murmur  of  a  griev- 
ing angel — "  I  think  that  there  are  compensations  in  the  lot 
of  plain  people  that  we  know  nothing  about.  They  escape 
the  censure  and  unkind  remarks  that  uncharitable  and 
envious  women  heap  upon  those  who  happen  to  be  attrac- 
tive. Now,  there  is  Sarah,  who  never  cares  a  button  about 
her  looks,  so  long  as  her  "hair  is  smooth  and  her  dress  clean 
and  whole.  She  hates  parties,  and  is  glad  of  any  excuse  to 
stay  out  of  the  parlor  when  gentlemen  call.  Give  her  her 


HUSKS.  17 

books  and  that  'snuggery,'  as  she  calls  it,  of  a  room  up- 
stairs, and  she  is  happier  than  if  she  were  in  the  gayest 
company  in  the  world.  Who  criticises  her  ?..  Nobody  is 
jealous  of  her  face,  or  manners,  or  conversation.  And  she 
would  not  mind  it  if  they  were." 

"She  has  a  more  independent  nature  than  yours,  my 
dear.  I,  for  one,  am  rejoiced  that  you  two  are  unlike.  I 
could  not  endure  to  lose  my  darling  friend,  and  somehow  I 
never  could  understand  Sarah ;  never  could  get  near  to  her, 
you  know." 

"I  do  not  wonder  at  that.  It  is  just  so  with  me,  sisters 
though  we  are.  However,  Sarah  means  well,  if  her  manner 
is  blunt  and  sometimes  cold." 

The  entrance  of  the  person  under  discussion  checked  the 
conversation  at  this  point,  and  both  young  ladies  besjan  to 
count  their  stitches  aloud,  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  the 
foolish  embarrassment  that  ever  overtakes  a  brace  of  gossips 
at  being  thus  interrupted. 

Sarah's  work  lay  on  her  stand  near  the  window,  where 
she -had  thrown  it  when  the  crying  child  attracted  her 
notice,  and  she  resumed  it  now.  It  was  a  dress  for  Jean- 
nie.  It  was  a  rare  occurrence  for  the  second  sister  to 
fashion  any  thing  so  pretty  and  gay  for  her  own  wear. 

"  Have  you  taken  to  fancy-work  at  last  ?"  asked  Victoria, 
seeing  that  the  unmade  skirt  was  stamped  with  a  rich, 
heavy  pattern  for  embroidery. 

"  Xo !"  Sarah  did  not  affect  her  sister's  friend,  and  did 
not  trouble  herself  to  disguise  her  feelings  towards  her. 

Lucy  explained :  "  she  is  making  it  for  Jeannie.  She 
does  every  thing  for  that  child." 

"  You  are  very  silterly  and  kind,  I  am  sure,"  Victoria 
continued,  patronizingly.  "  You  must  quite  despise  Lucy 
and  myself  for  thinking  of  and  doing  so  much  for  ourselves, 
While  you  are  such  a  pattern  of  self-denial." 


18  THE    EMPTY   HEART;     OB, 

A  blaze  shot  up  in  Sarah's  eye ;  then  she  said,  coldly :  **i 
am  not  self-denying.  Hare  I  ever  found  fault  with  you  or 
Lucy  for  doing  as  you  like  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  my  dear !  But  you  take  no  interest  in  what  we 
enjoy.  I  dare  say,  now,  you  would  think  it  a  dull  business 
to  work  day  after  day  for  three  or  four  weeks  together, 
crocheting  a  shawl  which  may  go  out  of  fashion  before  on 
has  a  chance  to  sport  it  at  a  watering-place."' 

"I  certainly  should!"  The  curl  of  the  thin  upper  lip 
would  have  answered  for  her  had  she  not  spoken. 

"  And  you  hate  the  very  sight  of  shell-work,  and  cone- 
frames,  and  Grecian  painting,  and  all  such  vanities  ?" 

"  If  I  must  speak  the  truth,  I  do — most  heartily!" 

Victoria  was  not  easily  turned  from  her  purpose. 

"  Come,  Sarah !  Tell  us  what  you  would  have  us,  poor 
trifling,  silly  things,  do  to  kill  the  time." 

"  If  you  must  be  a  murderer,  do  it  in  your  own  way.  I 
have  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  time  never  hangs  upon  your  hands  ? 
that  you  are  never  ennuyee — Uasee?" 

"  Speak  English,  and  I  will  answer  you !" 

"  I  want  to  know,"  said  the  persevering  tormentor,  "  if 
the  hum-drum  books  up-stairs,  your  paint  box,  and  your 
easel  are  such  good  company  that  you  are  contented  and 
happy  always  when  you  are  with  them  ?  if  you  never  get 
cross  with  yourself  and  everybody  else,  and  wonder  what 
you  were  put  into  the  world  for,  and  why  the  world  itself 
was  made,  and  wish  that  you  could  sleep  until  doomsday. 
Do  you  ever  feel  like  this  ?" 

Sarah  lifted  her  eyes  with  a  wonderbig,  incredulous  stare 
at  the  flippant  inquisitor. 

"  I  have  felt  thus,  but  I  did  not  suppose  that  you  had !" 

"  Oh !  I  have  a  '  blue'  turn  now  and  then,  but  the  disease 
s  always  more  dangerous  with  girls  of  your  sort — the  read* 


HTJBK8.  19 

ing,  thinking,  -strong-minded  kind.  And  the  older  you 
grow,  the  worse  you  will  get.  I  haven't  as  much  book 
knowledge  as  you  have,  but  I  know  more  of  the  world  we 
we  live  in.  Take  my  advice  and  settle-  down  to  woman's 
right  sphere.  Drive  away  the  vapors  with  beaux  and  fancy- 
work  now.  By  and  by,  a  husband  and  an  establishment 
will  give  you  something  else  to  think  about." 

Sarah  would  have  replied,  but  Lucy  broke  in  with  a 
laugh,  light  and  sweet. 

"  You  two  are  always  at  cross-questions !  Why  can't 
you  be  satisfied  to  let  one  another  alone?  Sarah  and  1 
never  quarrel,  Yic.  We  agree  to  disagree.  She  gives  me 
my  way  and  I  don't  meddle  with  her.  If  she  likes  the 
blues  (they  say  some  people  enjoy  them),  where's  the  harm 
of  her  having  them  ?  They  never  come  near  me.  If  I  get 
stupid,  I  go  to  bed  and  sleep  it  off.  Don't  you  think  I  have 
done  ten  rows,  since  breakfast  ?  What  a  godsend  a  rainy 
day  is,  when  one  has  a  fascinating  piece  of  work  on  hand !" 

Too  proud  to  seem  to  abandon  the  field,  Sarah  sat  for 
half  an  hour  longer,  stitching  steadily  away  at  the  compli- 
cated tracery  upon  the  ground  to  be  worked ;  then,  as  the 
dimmer  daylight  caused  the  others  to  draw  near  to  the 
windows,  she  pushed  aside  her  table  and  put  by  her  sew- 
ing. 

"  Don't  let  us  drive  you  away !"  said  Victoria's  mock- 
polite  tones ;  and  Lucy  added,  kindly,  "  We  do  not  mean 
to  disturb  you,  Sarah,  dear !" 

"  You  do  not  disturb  me !"  was  the  reply  to  the  latter. 
The  other  had  neither  glance  nor  word. 

Up  another  flight  she  mounted  to  a  room,  much  smaller 
than  that  she  had  left  and  far  plainer  in  its  appointments. 
The  higher  one  went  in  Mrs.  Hunt's  house,  the  less  splendid 
every  thing  became.  In  the  state  spare  chamber — a  story 
below — nothing  of  comfort  and  luxury  was  wanting,  from 


20  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

the  carved  rose-wood  bedstead,  with  the  regal-looking 
canopy  overshadowing  its  pillows,  down  to  the  Bohemian 
and  cut-glass  scent  bottles  upon  the  marble  of  the  dressing- 
cabinet.  Sarah's  carpet  was  common  ingrain,  neither  pretty 
nor  new ;  a  cottage  bedstead  of  painted  wood ;  bureau  and 
wash-stand  of  the  same  material ;  two  chairs,  and  a  small 
table  were  all  the  furniture  her  mother  adjudged  needful. 
To  these  the  girl  had  added,  from  her  pittance  of  pocket- 
money,  a  set  of  hanging  bookshelves ;  a  portable  desk,  an 
easel,  and  two  or  three  good  engravings  that  adorned  the 
walls. 

She  locked  the  door  after  her,  with  a  kind  of  angry  satis- 
faction in  her  face,  and  going  straight  to  the  window,  leaned 
upon  the  sash,  and  looked  down  into  the  flooded  street. 
Her  eyes  were  dry,  but  there  was  a  heaving  in  her  throat ; 
a  tightening  of  the  muscles  about  the  moiith  that  would 
have  made  most  women  weep  for  very  relief.  Sarah  Hunt 
would  have  scorned  the  ease  purchased  by  such  weakness. 
She  did  not  despise  the  sad  loneliness  that  girt  her  around, 
any  more  than  the  captive  warrior  does  his  cell  of  iron  or 
stone,  but  she  held  that  it  would  be  a  cowardly  succumbing 
to  Fate,  to  wound  herself  by  dashing  against  the  grim 
walls,  or  bring  out  their  sleeping  echoes  by  womanish  wail- 
ings.  So,  presently,  her  throat  ached  and  throbbed  no 
longer  ;  the  rigid  muscles  compressed  the  lips  no  more  than 
was  their  wont ;  the  hands  loosened  their  vise-like  grasp  of 
one  another — the  brain  was  free  to  think. 

The  rain  fell  still  with  a  solemn  stateliness  that  befitted 
the  coming  twilight.  It  was  a  silent  storm  for  one  so  heavy. 
The  faint  hum  of  the  city ;  the  tinkle  of  the  car-bell,  three 
blocks  off,  arose  to  her  window  above  its  plashing  fall  upon 
the  pavement,  and  the  trickle  of  the  drops  from  sash  to  sill. 
A  stream  of  light  from  the  lamp-post  at  the  corner  flashed 
athwart  the  sidewalk,  glittered  upon  the  swollen  gutter 


H  TJ  S  K  8 .  21 

made  gold  and  silver  blocks  of  the  paving-stones.  As  ii 
they  had  waited  for  this  signal,  other  lights  now  shone  out 
from  the  windows  across  the  way,  and  from  time  to  time  a 
broad,  transient  gleam  from  opening  doors,  told  of  the  re- 
turn of  fathers,  brothers,  husbands  from  their  day's  employ- 
ment. 

"  la  happy  homes  he  sees  the  light." 

What  was  there  in  the  line  that  should  make  the  watcher 
catch  her  breath  in  sudden  pain,  and  lay  her  hand,  with 
stifled  moan,  over  her  heart,  as  she  repeated  it  aloud? 

Witness  with  me,  ye  maternal  Hunts,  who  read  this  page 
— you,  the  careful  and  solicitous  about  many  things — in 
nothing  more  ambitious  than  for  the  advancement  and  suc- 
cess in  life  of  your  offspring — add  your  testimony  to  mine 
that  this  girl  had  all  that  was  desirable  for  one  of  her  age 
and  in  her  circumstances.  A  house  as  handsome  as  her 
neighbors,  an  education  unsurpassed  by  any  of  her  late 
school-fellows,  a  "  position  in  society ;"  a  reasonable  share 
of  good  looks,  which  only  required  care  and  cultivation  on 
her  part,  to  become  really  distingue ;  indulgent  parents  and 
peaceably  inclined  brothers  and  sisters ;  read  the  list,  and 
solve  me,  if  you  can,  the  enigma  of  this  perturbed  spirit — 
this  hungering  and  thirsting  after  contraband  or  unattaina- 
ble pleasures. 

"  Some  girls  will  do  so !"  Mrs.  Hunt  assured  her  husband 
when  he  "thought  that  Sarah  did  not  seem  so  happy  as 
Lucy.  He  hoped  nothing  ailed  the  child.  Perhaps  the  doc- 
tor had  better  drop  in  to  see  her.  Could  she  be  fretting  for 
any  thing  ?  or  had  her  feelings  been  hurt  ?" 

"  Bless  your  soul,  Mr.  H. !  there's  nothing  the  matter 
with  her.  She  always  was  kind  o'  queer !"  (Mrs.  Hunt  did 
not  use  her  company  grammar  every  day),  and  she's  jest 
eighteen  year  old.  That's  the  whole  of  it!  She'll  come 
'round  in  good  time,  'specially  if  Lucy  should  marry  ofl 


22  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

pretty  soon.  When  Sarah  is  '  Miss  Hunt,'  she'll  be  as  crazy 
for  beaux  and  company,  and  as  ready  to  jump  at  a  prime 
offer  as  any  of  'em.  I  know  girls'  ways !" 

Nor  am  I  prepared  to  say  that  Sarah,  as  she  quitted  her 
look-out  at  the  high  window,  at  the  sound  of  the  dinner- 
bell,  could  have  given  a  more  satisfactory  reason  for  tier 
discontent  and  want  of  spirits. 


HUSKS  23 


CHAPTER  II. 

MRS.  HUNT'S  china,  like  her  grammar,  was  of  two  sorts. 
When  her  duty  to  "  society"  or  the  necessity  of  circum- 
stances forced  her  to  be  hospitable,  she  "did  the  thing" 
well.  At  a  notice  of  moderate  length,  she  could  get  up  a 
handsome,  if  not  a  bountiful  entertainment,  to  which  no 
man  need  have  been  ashamed  to  seat  his  friends,  and  when 
the  occasion  warranted  tbe  display,  she  grudged  not  the 
.  *'  other"  china,  the  other  silver,  nor  the  other  table-linen. 

She  did,  however,  set  her  face,  like  a  broad  flint,  against 
the  irregularity  of  inviting  chance  visitors  to  partake  of  the 
family  bread  and  salt.  Intimate  as  Victoria  West  was  with 
Lucy,  she  met  only  a  civil  show  of  regretful  acquiescence  in 
her  proposal  to  go  home,  as  the  dinner  hour  approached ; 
and  Robbie  or  Richard  Hunt  was  promptly  offered  to  escort 
her  to  her  abode  upon  the  next  block.  If  she  remained  to 
luncheon,  as  she  would  do  occasionally,  Lucy,  in  her  hearing, 
begged  her  mother  to  excuse  them  from  going  down,  and 
to  send  up  two  cups  of  tea,  and  a  few  sandwiches  to  the 
sitting-room.  This  slight  repast  was  served  by  the  butler 
upon  a  neat  little  tray,  in  a  tete-drtete  service — a  Christmas 
gift  to  Lucy,  "from  her  ever-loving  Victoria,"  and  sen- 
timentally dedicated  to  the  use  of  the  pair  of  adopted 
sisters. 

Therefore,  Sarah  was  not  surprised  to  find  Victoria  gone, 
despite  the  storm,  when  she  entered  the  dining-room.  An 
immense  crumb-cloth  covered  the  carpet ;  a  row  of  shrouded 


24  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OK, 

chairs,  packed  elbow  to  elbow,  stood  against  the  furthei 
end  of  the  apartment,  and  a  set  of  very  ordinary  ones  were 
around  the  table.  The  cloth  was  of  whity-brown  material, 
and  the  dishes  a  motley  collection  of  halt  and  maimed — for 
all  Mrs.  Hunt's  vigilance  could  not  make  servants  miracu- 
lously careful.  There  was  no  propriety,  however,  according 
to  her  system  of  economy,  in  condemning  a  plate  or  cup  as 
past  service,  because  it  had  come  off  second  best,  to  the  ex- 
tent of  a  crack,  or  nick,  or  an  amputated  handle  in  an  en- 
counter with  some  other  member  of  the  crockery  tribe. 
"  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope,"  was,  in  these  cases, 
paraphrased  by  her  to  the  effect  that  while  a  utensil  would 
hold  water,  it  was  too  good  to  be  thrown  away. 

It  was  not  a  sumptuous  repast  to  which  Sarah  sat  down 
after  she  had  placed  Jeannie  in  her  high  chair  and  tied  the 
great  gingham  bib  around  her  neck.  On  the  contrary,  it 
came  near  being  a  scant  provision  for  the  healthy  appetites 
of  seven  people.  Before  Mr.  Hunt,  a  mild,  quiet  little  man, 
was  a  dish  of  stew,  which  was,  in  its  peculiar  line,  a  thing — 
not  of  beauty — but  wonder. 

Only  a  few  days  since,  as  I  stood  near  the  stall  of  a 
poultry  vender  in  market,  a  lady  inquired  for  chickens. 

"Yes,  ma'am.     Roasting  size,  ma'am ?" 

"  No ;  I  want  them  for  a  fricassee." 

"  Ah" — with  a  look  of  shrewd  intelligence.  "  Then, 
ma'am,  I  take  it,  you  don't  care  to  have  'em  overly  tender. 
Most  ladies  prefers  the  old  ones  for  fricassee ;  they  come 
cheaper,  and  very  often  bile  tender." 

"  Thank  you,"  was  the  amused  rejoinder.  "  The  dif 
fereuce  in  the  price  is  no  consideration  where  the  safety  of 
our  teeth  is  concerned." 

Mrs.  Hunt  suffered  not  these  scruples  to  hinder  her 
negotiations  with  knowing  poultry  merchants.  A  cent  less 
per  pound  would  be  three  cents  saved  upon  the  chicken, 


H  TT  S  K  S .  25 

and  three  cents  would  buy  enough  turnips  for  dinner.  It 
is  an  ignorant  housekeeper  who  needs  to  be  informed  that 
stewed  chicken  "goes  further"  than  the  same  fowl  made 
into  any  other  savory  combination.  Mrs.  Hunt's  stews  were 
concocted  after  a  receipt  of  her  own  invention.  Imprimis, 
one  chicken,  weight  varying  from  two  and  a  half  to  three 
pounds  ;  salt  pork,  a  quarter  of  a  pound ;  gravy  abundant ; 
dumplings  innumerable.  It  was  all  "  stew  ;"  and  if  Jean- 
nie's  share  was  but  a  bare  drumstick,  swimming  in  gravy 
and  buried  in  boiled  dough,  there  was  the  chicken  flavor 
through  the  portion. 

For  classic  antecedent  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  fable 
of  the  rose-scented  clay. 

To  leave  the  principal  dish,  which  justice  to  Mrs.  Hunt's 
genius  would  not  permit  me  to  pass  with  briefer  mention, 
there  were,  besides,  potatoes,  served  whole  (mashed  ones 
required  butter  and  cream),  turnips,  and  bread,  and  Mrs. 
Hunt  presided  over  a  shallow  platter  of  pork  and  beans. 
What  was  left  of  that  dish  would  be  warmed  over  to  piece 
out  breakfast  next  morning.  The  children  behaved  well, 
and  the  most  minute  by-law  of  table  etiquette  was  observed 
with  a  strictness  that  imparted  an  air  of  ceremonious  re- 
straint to  the  meal.  If  Mrs.  Hunt's  young  people  were  not 
in  time  finished  ladies  and  gentlemen,  it  was  not  her  fault, 
nor  was  it  for  the  lack  of  drilling. 

"  Do  as  I  tell  you,  not  as  I  do,"  were  her  orders  in  these 
matters.  Since  Lucy  had  completed  her  education,  the 
mother  added :  "  Look  at  your  sister ;  she  is  never 
awkward !"  This  was  true :  Lucy  was  born  the  fine  lady. 
Refinement  of  manner  and  grace  of  movement,  an  instinc- 
tive avoidance  of  whatever  looked  common  or  underbred 
were  a  part  of  her  nature.  Only  the  usage  of  years  had 
accustomed  her  to  her  mother's  somewhat  "fussy"  ways. 

Had  she  met  her  in  company  as  Mrs.  Anybody  else,  she 
2 


26  THE    EMPTY    HEABTJ     OB, 

would  have  yielded  her  the  right  of  way  with  a  fteliug  of 
amazement  and  amiable  pity  that  one  who  meant  so  well 
should  so  often  overdo  the  thing  she  aimed  to  accomplish 
easily  and  gracefully.  Following  out  her  excellent  system 
of  training,  the  worthy  dame  demanded  as  diligent  and 
alert  waiting  from  her  butler  as  if  she  were  having  a  dinner 
party.  The  eggless  rice  pudding  was  brought  on  with  a 
state  that  was  absolutely  ludicrous ;  but  the  family  were 
used 'to  the  unsubstantial  show,  and  took  it  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

After  the  meal  was  over  Mrs.  Hunt  withdrew  to  the 
kitchen  for  a  short  conference  with  the  cook  and  a  sharp 
glance  through  the  closets.  It  was  impossible  that  the 
abstraction  of  six  slices  of  bread  from  the  baking  of  the 
preceding  day,  three  thick  pieces  of  cheese,  and  more  than 
half  of  the  cold  meat  she  had  decided  would,  in  the  form  of 
hash,  supply  the  oth<K  piece  of  the  breakfast  at  which  the 
beans  were  to  assist,  should  escape  her  notice. 

Mr.  Hunt  was  reading  the  evening  paper  by  the  drop 
light  in  the  sitting  room,  Lucy  was  busy  with  her  shawl^ 
and  Sarah  told  a  simple  tale  in  a  low  voice  to  Jeannie,  as 
she  leaned  upon  her  lap,  when  the  wife  and  mother  entered, 
with  something  like  a  bluster.  All  present  looked  up,  and 
each  one  remarked  the  cloud  upon  her  brow. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  mother  ?"  said  Mr.  Hunt,  in  a  tone 
not  free  from  alarm. 

"  I  am  worried !  That's  the  whole  of  it !  I  am  down- 
right vexed  with  you,  Sarah,  and  surprised,  too!  What 
upon  earth  possessed  you,  child,  to  take  that  beggar  into  my 
kitchen  to-day  ?  After  all  I  have  told  you  and  tried  to 
learn  you  about  these  shameful  impostors!  I  declare  I  was 
beat  out  when  I  heard  it.  And  to  throw  away  provisions 
and  clothes  upon  such  a  brat !" 

Lucy  opened  her  great  eyes  at  her  sister,  and  Mr.  Him*, 


HUSKS.  27 

looked  perplexedly  towards  his  favorite,  for  at  heart  he  waa 
partial  to  his  second  child. 

"  I  took  the  poor  creature  to  the  fire,  mother,  because  she 
was  wet  and  cold  ;  I  fed  her  because  she  was  hungry ;  I 
gave  her  some  old,  warm  clothes  of  mine  because  hers  were 
t-hiu  and  soaked  with  rain." 

"Poor  little  girl!"  murmured  Jeannie,  compassionately. 

Sarah's  hand  closed  instantly  .over  the  little  fingers.  The 
simple-hearted  babe  understood  and  sympathized  with  her 
motive  and  act  better  than  did  her  wiser  elders. 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  she  told  a  pitiful  story,  and  shed 
enough  tears  to  wet  her  through,  if  the  rain  had  not  done 
it  already.  If  you  listen  to  what  these  wretches  say,  and 
undertake  to  relieve  their  wants,  you  will  soon  have  not  a 
dress  to  your  back  nor  a  house  over  your  head.  Why 
didn't  you  send  her  to  some  society  for  the  relief  of  the 
poor  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  where'  to  find  one,  ma'am." 

This  plain  truth,  respectfully  uttered,  confounded  Mrs. 
Hunt  for  a  second. 

"  Mrs.  James  is  one  of  the  managers  in  a  Benevolent  As- 
sociation," she  said,  recovering  herself.  "  You  had  ought 
to  have  given  your  beggar  her  address." 

"  Even  if  I  had  known  that  fact,  mother,  the  girl  would 
have  been  obliged  to  walk  half  a  mile  in  the  storm  to  find 
this  one  manager.  What  do  you  suppose  Mrs.  James  would 
have  done  for  her  that  was  not  in  my  power  to  perform  ?" 

"  She  would  have  asked  the  child  whereabouts  she  lived, 
and  to-morrow  she  would  have  gone  to  hunt  her  up.  H* 
she  found  all  as  she  had  been  told,  which  is  not  likely — these 
creatures  don't  give  a  right  direction  once  in  ten  times — why, 
she  would  have  brought  the  case  before  the  board  at  their 
next  meeting,  and  they  would  help  them,  if  neither  of  her 
parents  was  a  drinking  character." 


28  THE    EMPTY    HEART,     OR, 

"  God  help  the  poor !"  ejaculated  Sarah,  energetically. 
"  God  help  the  poor,  if  this  is  man's  style  of  relieving  hia 
starving  brother !  Mother,  do  you  think  that  hunger 
pinches  any  the  less  when  the  famished  being  is  told  that 
next  week  or  next  month  may  bring  him  one  good  meal  ? 
Will  the  promise  of  a  bushel  of  coal  or  a  blanket,  to  be 
given  ten  days  hence,  warm  the  limbs  that  are  freezing  to- 
night ?  Is  present  help  for  present  need,  then,  always  un- 
safe, imprudent,  insane  ?" 

"  That  all  sounds  very  fine,  my  dear."  Mrs.  Hunt  grew 
cool  as  her  daughter  waxed  warm.  "  But  when  you  have 
seen  as  much  of  the  world  as  I  have,  you  will  understand 
how  necessary  it  is  to  be  careful  about  believing  all  that  we 
hear.  Another  thing  you  must  not  forget,  and  that  is  that 
we  are  not  able  to  give  freely,  no  matter  how  much  disposed 
we  may  be  to  do  so.  Its  pretty  hard  for  a  generous  person 
to  say  '  No,'  but  it  can't  be  helped.  People  in  our  circum- 
stances must  learn  this  lesson."  Mrs.  Hunt  sighed  at 
thought  of  tRe  curb  put  upon  her  benevolent  desires  by 
bitter  necessity.  "  And  after  all,  very  few — you've  no  idea 
how  few — of  these  pretended  sufferers  are  really  in  want." 

This  preluded  a  recital  of  sundry  barefaced  impositions 
and  successful  swindles  practised  upon  herself  and  acquain- 
tances, to  which  Mr.  Hunt  subjoined  certain  of  his  personal 
experiences,  all  tending  to  establish  the  principle  that  in  a 
vast  majority  of  cases  of  seeming  destitution  the  supplicant 
was  an  accomplished  rogue,  and  the  giver  of  alms  the  victim 
of  his  own  soft  heart  and  a  villain's  wiles.  Jeannie  drank 
in  every  syllable,  until  her  ideal  beggar  quite  equalled  the 
ogre  who  would  have  made  a  light  supper  off  of  Hop-o'-my  • 
Thumb  and  brothers. 

"You  gave  this  match-girl  no  money,  I  hope  ?"  said  Mrg. 
Uunt,  at  length. 

"  I  did  not,  madam.    I  had  none  to  give  her."     Impelled 


by  her  straightforward  sense  of  honesty  that  would  not 
allow  her  to  receive  commendation  for  prudence  she  had 
not  shown,  she  said,  bravely :  "  but  I  lent  her  my  umbrella 
upon  her  promise  to  return  it  to-morrow." 

"WELL!" 

Mrs.  Hunt  dropped  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  stared  in 
speechless  dismay  at  her  daughter.  Even  her  husband  felt 
it  his  duty  to  express  his  disapprobation. 

"  That  was  very  unwise,  my  daughter.  You  will  never 
see  it  again." 

"  I  think  differently,  father." 

"  You  are  too  easily  imposed  upon,  Sarah.  There  is  not 
the  least  probability  that  your  property  will  be  returned. 
Was  it  a  good  umbrella  ?" 

"  It  was  the  one  I  always  use." 

"  Black  silk,  the  best  make,  with  a  carved  ivory  handle — 
cost  six  dollars  a  month  ago !"  gasped  Mrs.  Hunt.  "  I 
never  heard  of  such  a  piece  of  shameful  imprudence  in  all 
my  born  days  !  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  never  once 
thought  to  ask  her  where  she  lived,  that  you  might  send  a 
police  officer  after  it,  if  the  little  thief  didn't  bring  it  back 
to  you?" 

"  I  did  think  of  it."  Sarah  paused,  then  forced  out  the 
confession  she  foresaw  would  subject  her  to  the  charge  of 
yet  more  ridiculous  folly.  "  I  did  think  of  it,  but  con- 
cluded to  throw  the  girl  upon  her  honor,  not  to  suggest  the 
theft  to  her  by  insinuating  a  doubt  of  her  integrity." 

Mr.  Hunt  was  annoyed  with  and  sorry  for  the  culprit,  yet 
he  could  not  help  smiling  at  this  high-flown  generosity  of 
confidence.  "  You  are  certainly  the  most  unsophisticated 
girl  of  your  age  I  ever  met  with,  my  daughter.  I  shall  not 
mind  the  loss  of  the  umbrella  if  it  prove  to  be  the  means 
of  giving  you  a  lesson  in  human  nature.  In  this  world, 
dear,  it  will  not  do  to  wear  your  heart  upon  your  sleeve. 


SO  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OR, 

Never  believe  a  pretty  story  until  you  have  had  the  oppor- 
tunity to  ascertain  for  yourself  whether  it  is  true  or  false." 
And  with  these  titbits  of  worldly  wisdom,  the  cashier 
picked  up  his  paper. 

"  Six  dollars  !  I  declare  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you, 
Sarah !"  persisted  the  ruffled  mother.  "  You  cannot  expect 
me  to  buy  you  another  umbrella  this  season.  You  must 
give  up  your  walks  in  damp  weather  after  this.  I  can't  say 
that  I'm  very  sorry  for  that,  though.  I  never  'did  fancy 
your  traipsing  off  two  or  three  miles,  rain  or  shine,  like  a 
sewing  girl." 

"  Very  well,  madam.!" 

But,  steadied  by  pride  as  was  her  voice,  her  heart  sank  at 
the  possibility  of  resigning  the  exercise  upon  which  she 
deemed  that  so  much  of  her  health,  physical  and  mental, 
depended.  These  long,  solitary  walks  were  one  of  the  un- 
American  habits  that  earned  for  Sarah  Hunt  the  reputation 
of  eccentricity.  They  were  usually  taken  immediately  after 
breakfast,  and  few  in  the  neighborhood  who  were  abroad  or 
happened  to  look  out  at  that  hour,  were  not  familiar  witli 
the  straight,  proud  figure,  habited  in  its  walking  dress  of 
gray  and  black,  stout  boots,  and  gray  hat  with  black  plume. 
It  was  a  uniform  selected  by  herself,  and  which  her  mother 
permitted  her  to  assume,  because  it  "  looked  genteel,"  and 
became  the  wearer.  Especially  did  she  enjoy  these  tramps 
when  the  threatening  storm,  in  its  early  stages,  kept  others 
of  her  class  and  sex  at  home.  The  untamed  spirit  found  a 
fierce  pleasure  in  wrestling  with  the  wind;  the  hail  that 
ushered  in  the  snow-storm,  as  it  beat  in  her  face,  called  up 
lustre  to  the  eye  and  warm  color  to  the  cheek.  To  a  soul 
sickening  of  the  glare  and  perfume  of  the  artificial  life  to 
which  she  was  confined,  the  roughest  and  wildest  aspects  of 
Dature  were  a  welcome  change. 

I  remember  laughing  heartily,  as  I  doubt  not  you  did 


31 


also,  dear  render,  if  you  saw  it,  at  a  cut  which  appeared 
several  years  ago  in  the  Punch  department  of  Harper's 
Magazine.  A  "  wee  toddler,"  perhaps  four  years  old,  with 
a  most  lack-a-daisical  expression  upon  her  chubby  visage, 
accosts  her  grandmother  after  this  fashion  :  "  I  am  tired  of 
life,  grandmamma!  The  world  is  hollow,  and  my  doll  is' 
Btuifed  with  sawdust,  and,  if  you  please,  ma'am,  I  should 
like  to  go  to  a  nunnery  !" 

Yet,  that  there  are  natures  upon  which  the  feeling  of  empti- 
ness and  longing  herein  burlesqued  seizes  in  mere  babyhood 
is  sadly  true.  And  what  wonder?  From  their  cradles, 
hundreds  of  children,  in  our  so-called  better  classes,  are  fed 
upon  husks.  A  superficial  education,  in  which  all  that  is 
not  showy  accomplishment  is  so  dry  and  uninviting  that  the 
student  has  little  disposition  to  seek  further  for  the  rich 
kernel,  the  strong  meat  of  knowledge,  is  the  preparatory 
course  to  a  premature  introduction  into  the  world,  to  many 
the  only  phase  of  life  they  are  permitted  to  see,  a  scene 
where  all  is  flash  and  froth,  empty  bubbles  of  prizes,  chased 
by  men  and  women  with  empty  heads,  and  oh,  how  often 
empty,  aching  hearts !  Outside  principles,  outside  affec- 
tions, outside  smiles,  and  most  pitable  of  all,  outside  piety ! 
Penury  of  heart  and  stomach  at  home ;  abroad  a  parade 
of  reckless  extravagance  and  ostentatious  profession  of  fine 
feeling  and  liberal  sentiments ! 

"  Woe,"  cried  the  Preacher,  "  to  them  that  make  haste 
to  be  rich !"  If  he  had  lived  in  our  day,  hi  what  biting 
terms  of  reprobation  and  contempt  would  he  have  de 
claimed  against  the  insane  ambition  of  those  who  forego 
the  solid  comforts  of  judicious  expenditure  of  a  moderate 
income  would  aiford ;  spurn  the  holy  quiet  of  domestic 
joys — neglect  soul  with  heart  culture — in  their  haste  to  seem 
rich,  when  Providence  has  seen  that  wealth  is  not  to  be 
desired  for  them!  Out. upon  the  disgusting,  indecent  race 


32  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OR, 

and  scramble!  The  worship  of  the  golden  calf  is  bad 
enough,  but  when  this  bestial  idolatry  rises  to  such  a  pitch 
of  fanaticism,  that  in  thousands  of  households,  copies  in 
pinchbeck  and  plated- ware  are  set  up  and  served,  the  spec- 
tacle is  too  monstrous  in  its  abomination  !  This  it  is,  that 
crowds  our  counting-rooms  with  bankrupts  and  our  state- 
prisons  with  defaulters ;  that  is  fast  turning  our  ball-rooms 
and  other  places  of  fashionable  rendezvous,  into  vile  carica- 
tures of  foreign  courts,  foreign  manners^  and  foreign  vices ; 
while  the  people  we  ape — our  chosen  models  and  exem- 
plars— hold  their  sides  in  inextinguishable  laughter  at  the 
grave  absurdity  of  our  laborious  imitation.  It  is  no  cause 
for  marvel,  that,  in  just  retribution,  there  should  be  sent  a 
panic-earthquake,  every  three  years,  to  shake  men  to  their 


Such  was  the  atmosphere  in  which  Sarah  Hunt  had 
always  lived.  In  the  code  subscribed  to  by  her  mother, 
and  the  many  who  lived  and  felt  and  panted  and  pushed  as 
she  did  for  social  distinction,  nothing  was  of  real,  absolute 
value  except  the  hard  cash.  Gold  and  silver  were  facts. 
All  things  else  were  comparative  in  use  and  worth.  The 
garment  which,  last  winter,  no  lady  felt  dressed  without,  was 
an  obsolete  horror  this  season.  The  pattern  of  curtains  and 
furniture  that  nearly  drove  the  fortunate  purchaser  wild  with 
delight,  three-  years  back,  was  now  only  fit  for  the  auction 
room.  In  vain  might  the  poor  depleted  husband  plead  for 
and  extol  their  beauties.  The  fiat  of  fashion  had  gone  forth, 
and  his  better  half  seasoned  his  food  with  lamentations,  and 
moistened  her  pillow  with  tears  until  she  carried  her  point. 
We  have  intimated  that  Sarah  was  a  peculiar  girl.  Whence 
she  derived  her  vigorous  intellect ;  her  strong,  original  turn 
of  thought ;  her  deep  heart,  was  a  puzzle  to  those  who 
knew  her  parents.  The  mother  was  energetic,  the  father 
sensible,  but  both  were  commonplace,  and  followed,  like 


HTJ8K8.  33. 

industrious  puppets,  in  the  wake  of  others.  They  were 
pleased  that  Sarah  brought  home  all  the  prizes  offered  at 
school,  and  both  considered  that  she  gained  a  right,  by 
these  victories,  to  pursue  her  studies  at  home,  provided  she 
did  not  obtrude  her  singular  views  and  tastes  upon  other 
people.  Mrs.  Hunt  sighed,  frequently  and  loudly,  in  her 
presence,  that  her  genius  had  not  been  for  shell,  or  bead,  01 
worsted  work,  instead  of  for  reading  volumes,  that  did  not 
even  decorate  the  show  book-case  in  the  library. 

"  If  you  must  have  so  many  books,  why  don't  you  pick 
out  them  with  the  tasty  bindings  ?"  she  had  asked  her 
daughter  more  than  once.  "  And  I  wish  you  would  paint 
some  bright,  lively  pictures,  that  would  look  handsome  on 
the  walls,  instead  of  those  queer  men  and  women  and 
cloudy  things  you  have  got  up-stairs.  I'd  have  'em  framed 
right  away,  and  be  real  proud  to  tell  who  done  them.'5 

Sarah  remained  proof  against  such  hints  and  temptations, 
and,  shrinking  more  and  more  from  the  uncongenial  whirl 
around  her,  she  turned  her  eager,  restless  spirit  into  her 
secret,  inner  life,  where,  at  times,  it  was  flattered  into  con- 
tent by  the  idealities  upon  which  it  was  fed ;  at  others, 
ramped  and  raved,  like  any  other  chained  wild  thing.  The 
sweetest  drop  of  pleasure  she  had  tasted  for  many  a  day 
was  the  thrill  she  experienced  when  the  forlorn  object  she 
had  rescued  from  the  power  of  the  storm  stood  before  her, 
decently  and  comfortably  clad.  The  rash  confidence  she 
had  reposed  in  so  suspicious  a  stranger  was  the  outgoing 
of  a  heart  too  noble  and  true  in  every  impulse  to  pause,  for 
a  moment,  to  speculate  upon  the  chances  of  another's  good 
or  bad  faith.  The  great  world  of  the  confessedly  poor  was 
an  unknown  field  to  her — one  she  longed  to  explore.  Her 
footsteps  loitered  more  often  near  the  entrance  of  some 
narrow,  reeking  street  or  alley,  down  which  she  had  prom- 
ised her  mother  not  ,to  go,  than  on  the  spacious  pave,  where 


34  THE  EMPTY  HEART;  OE, 

ovei'-dressed  women  and  foppish  men  baited  at,  and  hung 
around  bewitching  shop-windows.  She  wondered  how  such 
throngs  of  breathing  beings  contrived  to  exist  in  those 
fetid,  cramped  quarters  ;  how  they  lived,  spoke,  acted,  felt. 
The  great  tie  of  human  brotherhood  became  daily  more 
tense,  as  she  pondered  these  things  in  her  heart. 

On  this  particular  day,  as  she  sat,  silent  and  thoughtful, 
at  her  needle,  the  chit-chat  of  her  companions  less  heeded 
than  the  continual  dropping  of  the  rain  without,  the  wail 
of  the  shivering  wanderer  caused  a  painful  vibration 
through  every  nerve.  The  deed  was  done !  the  experiment 
was  tried.  She  was  ashamed  that  an  event  so  trivial  held 
her  eyes  waking,  far  into  the  night.  At  least,  she  said  to 
herself,  she  would  not  be  without  a  lesson  of  some  kind ; 
would  learn  whether  deceit  and  falsehood  prevailed  in  the 
lowest,  as  well  as  the  higher  ranks  of  society.  If,  as  she 
still  strove  to  belieA'e  would  be  the  case,  the  child  returned 
the  borrowed  property,  she  would  make  use  of  her,  as  the 
means  of  entering  upon  a  new  sphere  of  research  and  ac- 
tion. After  so  complete  a  refutation  of  her  theories  re- 
spiting the  utter  corruption  of  all  people,  who  had  not 
enough  to  eat  and  to  wear,  her  mother  could  not  withhold 
her  consent  to  her  petition  that  she  might  become  a  lay- 
missionary — a  present  relief  committee  to  a  small  portion 
of  the  suffering,  toiling,  ill-paid  masses.  She  would  then 
have  a  work  to  do — something  to  call  out  energy  and  en- 
gage feeling  in  healthy  exercise — and  soothed  by  the 
romantic  vision,  she  fell  asleep  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips. 

The  morning  dawned  between  breaking  clouds,  that  soon 
left  the  sky  clear  and  bright.  All  through  the  day  Sarah 
watched  for  her  visitor  of  the  preceding  day — watched  with 
nervousness  she  could  not  wholly  conceal,  from  morn  to 
night,  for  two,  three  days — for  a  week.  Then  she  looked 
no  longer  Avhile  at  home;  her  question,  at  entering  the 


35 


house,  after  a  drive  or  walk,  ceased  to  be,  "Has  any  thing 
been  left  for  me?"  So  palpable  was  her  disappointment 
that  her  father  forbore  to  make  any  allusion  to  her  loss,  and 
Lucy,  albeit  she  was  somewhat  obtuse  to  the  finer  points  of 
her  sister's  character,  good-naturedly  interposed  to  change 
the  subject,  when  her  mother  sought  to  improve  the  inci- 
dent to  her  daughter's  edification  and  future  profit.  Mr. ' 
Hunt  was  right  in  supposing  that  the  "  unsophisticated 
girl"  had  learned  something.  Whether  she  were  happier  or 
better  for  the  lesson  thus  acquired  was  another  thing. 

Once  again  Sarah  had  an  opportunity  for  speech  with  her 
delinquent  protege.  Two  months  later  she  was  passing 
through  a  by-street  in  a  mean  neighborhood,  very  far  up 
town,  in  her  morning  ramble,  when  her  progress  was  ar- 
rested, for  an  instant,  by  two  boys,  who  ran  out  of  an  alley 
across  the  walk.  One  overtook  the  other  just  in  front  of 
the  lady,  and  catching  him  by  his  ragged  collar,  threw  him 
down. 

"  That's  right !  beat  him  well !  I'll  help !"  screeched  a 
girl,  rushing  out  of  the  court  whence  they  had  come. 

Grinning  with  delight,  she  flung  herself  upon  the  pros- 
trate form  and  commenced  a  vigorous  assault,  accompanied 
by  language  alike  foul  and  profane. 

Sarah  recognized  her  instantly,  and  while  she  paused  in 
mingled  amazement  and  anger,  the  child  looked  up  and  saw 
hei*.  In  a  twinkling  she  relinquished  her  grip  of  the  boy's 
hair — jumped  up  and  sped  back  into  the  dirty  alley,  with 
the  blind  haste  of  guilty  fear. 

Yes  !  Mr.  Hunt  was  a  wise  man,  who  knew  the  world, 
and  trebly  sage  in  her  generation,  was  his  spouse.  If  their 
daughter  had  never  acknowledged  this  before,  she  did  now, 
in  her  disgust  and  dismay  at  this  utter  overthrow  of  her 
dreams  of  the  virtuous  simplicity  to  be  found  in  lowly 
homes,  where  riches  and  fashions  were  things  unknown. 


36  THE  EMPTY  HEART:   OR, 


CHAPTER    III. 

SUMMER  had  come  to  the  country  with  its  bloom  and  its 
beauty,  its  harvests  and  its  holidays.  In  town,  its  fever 
heat  drew  noisome  smells  from  overcharged  sewers,  and 
the  black,  oily  paste  to  which  the  shower  that  should  have 
been  refreshing  had  changed  the  dust  of  crowded  thorough- 
fares. Cleaner  pavements,  in  the  higher  portions  of  the  city, 
burned  through  shoe-soles ;  glass  radiated  heat  to  polished 
stone,  and  stone  radiated,  in  its  turn,  to  brick,  that  waited 
until  the  evening  to  throw  oif  its  surplus  caloric  in  hot,  suf- 
focating waves  that  made  yet  more  oppressive  the  close 
nights.  The  gay  procession  of  fashionable  humming-birds 
***d  commenced  their  migrations,  steamboats  and  excursion- 
vruft  multiplied  at  the  wharves,  and  the  iron  steed  put  forth 
all  his  tremendous  might  to  bear  onward  the  long  train  of 
*elf-exiled  travellers. 

The  Hunts,  too,  must  leave  town ;  Lucy  must,  at  all 
**ents,  have  a  full  season,  and  a  brilliant  one,  if  possible, 
itfr  it  was  her  second  summer,  and  much  might  depend 
upon  it.  Her  mother  would  accompany  her,  of  course  ;  and 
equally  of  course  her  father  could  not ;  that  is,  he  must  re- 
turn after  escorting  them  to  Saratoga,  and  spend  the  re- 
mainder of  the  warm  months  at  home.  His  business  would 
not  allow  him  to  take  an  extended  vacation.  The  boys  were 
easily  disposed  of,  being  boarded  every  summer  at  the  farm- 
house of  an  early  friend  of  Mr.  Hunt's,  where  they  were 
acceptable  inrnatus,  their  clothes  as  well  cared  for  as  they 


HUSKS.  37 

were  at  home,  and  their  morals  more  diligently  culwated. 
The  younger  girls  caused  that  excellent  manager,  their 
mother,  more  perplexity.  This  was  not  the  first  time  she 
had  repented  her  indiscretion  in  allowing  Sarah  to  "  come 
out"  before  her  elder  sister  had  "  gone  off."  But  "  Sarah 
was  so  tall  and  so  womanly  in  her  appearance  that  it  looked 
queer,  and  would  set  people  to  talking  if  I  kept  her  back," 
she  was  accustomed  to  excuse  her  impolitic  move  to  her 
friends.  This  summer  she  realized,  as  she  had  not  done  be- 
fore, the  inconvenience  of  having  two  full-fledged  young 
ladies  upon  the  carpet  at  once.  Lucy's  elegant  and  varied 
wardrobe,  and  the  certain  expenses  in  prospect  for  her  and 
her  chaperon  at  Spa,  seaside,  and  en  roiite,  left  a  balance  in 
hand  of  the  sum  allotted  for  the  season's  expenditure  that 
was  startling  in  its  meagreness.  Mrs.  Hunt  was  a  capital 
financier,  a  peerless  economist,  but  the  exigency  taxed  her 
resources  to  the  utmost. 

One  morning  she  arose  with  a  lightened  heart  and  a 
smoother  brow.  "  I  've  settled  it !"  she  exclaimed  to  her 
husband,  shaking  him  from  his  matutinal  doze. 

The  "Eureka!"  of  the  Syracusan  mathematician  was  not 
more  lofty  in  its  exultation.  Forthwith  she  unfolded  to 
him  her  scheme.  She  was  a  native  of  New  Jersey,  "the 
Jarseys"  she  had  heard  it  called  in  her  father's  house — had 
probably  thus  denominated  the  gallant  little  State  herself  in 
her  girlhood.  In  and  around  the  pretty,  quiet  village-  of 
Shrewsbury  there  were  still  resident  scores  of  her  relatives 
whose  very  names  she  had  sedulously  forgotten.  One  alone 
she  could  not,  in  conscience  or  in  nature,  dismiss  to  such 
oblivion.  This  was  her  elder  and  only  sister,  long  married 
to  a  respectable  and  worthy  farmer,  and  living  within  a 
mile  of  ';  the  old  place,"  where  both  sisters  had  drawn  the 
first  breath  of  life.  Twice  since  Mrs.  Hunt  had  lived  in  the 
city  had  this  kind  friend  been  summoned  on  account  of  the 


33  THE     EMPTY    HE  AIIT;     OB, 

dangerous  illness  of  the  former,  and  her  presence  and  nurs- 
ing had  restored  peace,  order,  and  health  to  the  household. 
The  earlier  of  these  occasions  was  that  of  the  second  child's 
birth,  and  in  the  softened  mood  of  her  convalescence  Mrs. 
Hunt  had  bestowed  upon  the  babe  her  sister's  name — Sarah 
Benson — a  homely  appellative  she  had  ofttimes  regretted 
since.  At  distant  and  irregular  intervals,  one,  two,  three 
years,  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Benson  visited  their  connections  in 
"  York ;"  but  the  intercourse  grew  more  difficult  and  broken 
as  time  rolled  on  and  the  distance  widened  between  the  plain 
country  folk  and  their  rising  relations.  Then,  again,  death 
had  been  busy  in  the  farmhouse ;  coffin  after  coffin,  of  vary- 
ing lengths,  but  all  short,  was  lifted  over  the  threshold  and 
laid  away  in  the  village  graveyard,  until  but  one  was  left  to 
the  parents  of  the  seven  little  ones  that  had  been  given  to 
them,  and  to  that  one  nature  had  denied  the  gifts  of  speech 
and  hearing.  Grief  and  the  infirmities  of  approaching  old 
age  disinclined  the  worthy  pair  to  stir  from  home,  and  their 
ambitious  sister  was  too  busy  in  building  up  a  "  set"  of  her 
own,  and  paving  the  way  for  her  daughters'  distinction,  to 
hide  her  light  for  ever  so  short  a  period  in  so  obscure  a  cor- 
ner as  her  former  home. 

Aunt  Sarah,  however,  could  not  forget  her  nurseling. 
Every  few  months  there  arrived  some  simple  token  of  affec- 
tionate remembrance  to  "the  child"  she  had  not  seen  since 
she. wore  short  frocks  and  pinafores.  The  reception  of  a 
basket  of  fruit,  thus  despatched,  was  the  suggestive  power 
to  Mrs.  Hunt's  present  plan.  She  had  made  up  her  mind, 
BO  she  informed  her  husband  straightway,  to  write  that  very 
day — yes !  that  very  forenoon,  to  "  Sister  Benson,"  and  in- 
quire whether  she  would  board  Sarah  and  Jeannie  for  a  cou- 
ple of  months. 

"  I  don't  s'pose  she  will  let  me  pay  board  for  them,  but 
she  will  be  pleased  to  have  'em  as  long  as  they  like  to  stay. 


HUSKS.  39 

It's  never  been  exactly  convenient  for  me  to  let  any  of  the 
children  go  there  for  so  many  years,  and  it's  so  fur  oft*  But 
dear  me !  sometimes  I  feel  real  bad  about  seeing  so  little  ol 
my  only  sister!" — a  heavy  sigh.  "And  there'll  be  the  ex- 
penses of  two  saved,  out  and  out,  for  they  won't  need  a  great 
variety  of  clothes  in  that  out-of-the-way  place." 

u  But  how  will  the  girls,  Sarah  and  Jeannie,  fancy  being 
Bent  off  so  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Hunt. 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  it  is  late  in  the  day  for  my  children 
to  dispute  what  I  say  shall  be  done ;  and  Sarah's  jest  that 
odd  that  she'll  like  this  notion  twenty  times  better  than  go- 
ing to  Newport  or  Saratoga.  I  know  her !  As  to  Jeannie, 
she  is  satisfied  to  be  with  her  sister  anywhere.  She  is  get- 
ting thin,  too  ;  she  looks  real  peaked,  and  there's  nothing  in 
creation  so  good  for  ailing  children  as  the  salt-water  bath. 
They  have  first-rate  still-water  bathing  not  a  quarter  of  a 
mile -from  sister's.  It's  jest  the  thing,  I  tell  you!  The 
wonder  is  it  never  came  into  my  head  before." 

Mr.  Hunt  had  his  sigh  now.  "  Somehow  or  other  he  was 
always  down  in  the  mouth  when  the  family  broke  up  for  the 
summer,"  his  wife  frequently  complained,  and  his  lack  of 
sympathy  now  excited  her  just  ire. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  II. !  anybody  would  think  that  I 
was  the  poorest  wife  in  the  world  to  you  to  see  and  hear 
you  whenever  I  talk  to  you  of  my  plans  and  household  af- 
fairs. You  look  as  if  you  was  about  to  be  hanged,  instead 
of  feeling  obliged  to  me  for  turning,  and  twisting,  and  con- 
triving, and  studying,  day  and  night,  how  to  save  your 
money,  and  spend  what  we  must  lay  out  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. I  can  tell  you  what — there's  few  women  would  make 
your  income  go  as  far  as  I  do." 

"  I  know  that,  my  dear.  The  question  is" — .  Mr.  Hunt 
paused,  cleared  his  throat,  and  strained  his  nerves  for  a 
mighty  effort,  an  unprecedented  exercise  of  moral  courage 


40  THE  EMPTY  HEABT;    OK, 

— "  the  question  is,  Betsy,  whether  our  income  is  stretched 
in  the  right  direction !"  Mistaking  the  stare  of  petrified 
incredulity  he  received  for  fixed  attention,  the  infatuated 
man  went  on ;  "  This  doubt  is  always  forced  upon  rne  when 
we  separate  in  July,  some  to  go  to  one  place,  some  to 
another,  a  broken,  wandering  family  for  months  together 
I  am  growing  old,  and  Hove  to  have  my  children  about  me; 
I  begin  to  feel  the  want  of  a  home.  There  is  Johnson,  in 

the Bank,  gets  five  hundred  less  per  annum  than  I  do ; 

yet,  after  living  quietly  here  a  few  years,  he  bought  himself 
a  snug  cottage  up  the  river,  and  has  his  family  there  in  their 
own  house,  every  thing  handsome  and  comfortable  about 
them.  I  have  been  in  the  harness  for  a  long  while ;  I  expect 
to  die  in  it.  I  don't  mind  work — hard  work !  but  it  seems 
to  me  sometimes  that  we  would  all  be  better  satisfied  if  we 
had  more  to  show,  or  rather  to  hold,  for  our  money ;  if  there 
were  less  of  this  straining  after  appearances,  this  constant 
study  to  make  both  ends  meet." 

"  And  it  has  come  to  this  !" — Mrs.  Hunt  sank  into  a  chair 
and  began  to  cry.  "  This  is  my  thanks  for  slaving  and  toil- 
ing for  better  than  twenty  years  to  get  you  and  your  children 
a  stand  in  the  world !  It  isn't  for  myself  that  I  care.  I  can 
work  my  fingers  to  the  bone,  and  live  upon  a  crust !  I  can 
scrape  and  save  five  dollars  or  so  a  month!  I  can  bury  my- 
self in  the  country !  But  your  children !  those  dear,  sweet 
girls,  that  have  had  the  best  education  money  can  buy,  and 
that  to-day  visit  such  people  as  the  Murrays,  and  Sander- 
sons, and  Hoopers,  and  Baylors,  and  meet  the  Castors  and 
Crinnalls  at  parties — rrillionaires,  all  of  'em,  the  cream  of 
the  upper  crust !  I  don't  deny  that  I  have  been  ambitious  for 
them,  and  I  did  hope  that  you  had  something  of  the  same 
spirit ;  and  now  to  think  of  your  complaining,  and  moping, 
and  groaning  over  the  money  you  say  I've  been  and  wasted ; 
Oh!  oh!  oh!" 


HIT  8  KB.  41 

"You  misunderstood  me,  my  dear;  I  merely  questioned 

whetfc-sr  we  were  acting  wisely  in  making  so  much  display 

upon  so  little  substance.      We  are  not  millionaires,  whatever 

may  be  said  of  the  girls'  visiting  acquaintances,  and  I  trem- 

_ble  sometimes  to  think  how  all  this  false  show  may  end." 

.Mr.  Hunt's  borrowed  courage  had  not  evaporated  en- 
tirely. 

"  That's  distrusting  Providence,  Mr.  H. !  It's  downright 
sinful,  and  what  I  shouldn't  have  looked  for  from  you.  I 
can  tell  you  how  it  will  end.  If  both  of  us  live  ten  years 
longer,  you  will  see  your  daughters  riding  in  their  own -car- 
riages, and  leaders  of  the  tong,  and  your  sons  among  the 
first  gentlemen  of  the  city.  If  this  does  not  turn  out  true, 
you  needn't  ever  trust  my  word  again.  I've  set  my  head 
upon  getting  Lucy  off  my  hands  this  summer,  and  well  off; 
and  mark  my  words,  Mr.  H.,  it  shall  be  done." 

One  part  of  her  mother's  prophecy  was  fulfilled  in  Sarah's 
manner  of  receiving  the  proposition  so  nearly  aftecting  her 
comfort  during  the  summer.  Lucy  wondered  at  the  cheer- 
ful alacrity  with  which  she  consented  to  be  "  hidden  away 
in  that  horrid  bore  of  a  farmhouse,"  and  Jeannie  cried  as  her 
elder  sister  <l  supposed  that  they  would  eat  in  Aunt  Sarah's 
kitchen,  along  with  the  servant-men." 

"  Lucy,  be  quiet !"  \\>  oerposed  her  mother.  "  Your  aunt 
is  not  a  common  poor  person.  Mr.  Benson  is  a  man  of  in- 
dependent means,  quittv  rich  for  the  country.  They  live 
very  nicely,  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  your  sisters  Tvill 
be  happy  there." 

Sarah  had  drawn  Jeannie  to  her,  and  was  telling  her  of  the 
rides  and  walks  they  would  take  together,  the  ducks  and 
chickens  they  would  feed,  and  the  merry  plunges  in  the  salt 
water  that  were  to  be  daily  luxuries.  Ere  the  recital  was 
concluded,  the  child  was  impatient  for  the  hour  of  departure, 
and  indignant  when  she  heard  that  Aunt  Sarah  must  be 


42  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OR, 

heard  from  before  they  could  venture  to  present  themsel  *, 
bag  and  baggage,  at  her  door.  There  was  nothing  feij  .ed 
in  Sarah's  satisfaction;  her  preparations  were  made  wit'.j  fnr 
more  pleasure  than  if  she  were  to  accompany  Lucy.  Tim 
seclusion  that  would  have  been  slow  death  to  the  latUr  was 
full  of  charms  for  the  book-loving  sister.  Aunt  Sarab  would 
be  kind ;  the  novel  phases  of  human  nature  she  would  meet 
would  amuse  and  interest  her ;  and,  besides  these,  there  was 
Jeannie  to  love  and  pet,  and  river,  field,  and  grove  for  stud- 
ies and  society.  She  panted  for  the  country  and  liberty 
from  the  tyrannous  shackles  of  city  customs. 

Aunt  Sarah  wrote  promptly  and  cordially,  rejecting  the 
offered  compensation,  and  begging  for  her  nieces'  company 
as  long  as  they  could  content  themselves  in  so  retired  a  place. 
Simple-minded  as  she  was,  she  knew  enough  to  be  sure  that 
the  belles  and  beaux  of  the  neighborhood  would  be  very  un- 
suitable mates  for  her  expected  visitors.  If  her  own  girls 
had  lived,  she  would  have  asked  nothing  higher  for  them  in 
this  Avorld  than  toliave  them  grow  up  respected,  beloved, 
and  happy,  among  the  acquaintances  and  friends  of  their 
parents  ;  but  "  Sister  Betsy's  children  had  been  raised  so  dif- 
ferently !"  she  said  to  her  husband.  "  I  don't  know  what  we 
will  do  to  amuse  them." 

"  They  will  find  amusement — never  fear,"  was  the  farmer's 
response.  "  Let  city  folks  alone  for  seeing  wonclevs  where 
those  that  have  lived  among  them  all  their  lives  never  found 
any  thing  uncommon.  They  are  welcome  to  the  pony  when- 
ever they've  a  mind  to  ride,  and  Jim  or  I  will  find  time  to 
drive  them  around  a'most  everyday;  and  what  with  riding, 
and  boating,  and  bathing,  I  guess  they  can  get  rid  of  the 
time." 

Before  the  day  set  for  the  coming  of  the  guests  there  ap 
peared  upon  the  stage  an  unexpected  and  welcome  ally  to 
Aunt  Sarah's  benevolent  design  of  making  her  nieces'  sojourn 


HUSKS.  43 

agreeable.  This  personage  we  will  let  the  good  woman  her 
sell'  describe. 

"  You  needn't  trouble  yourself  to  Sx  up  for  tea,  dear," 
Blie  said  to  Sarah,  the  afternoon  of  her  arrival,  as  she  pre- 
pared to  remove  her  travelling-dress.  "  There's  nobody 
here  besides  husband,  and  me,  and  Charley,  except  hus- 
band's nephew,  Philip  Benson,  from  the  South,  lie  comes 
North  'most  every  summer,  and  never  goes  back  without 
paying  us  a  visit.  He's  been  here  three  days  now.  But  he 
is  just  as  easy  as  an  old  shoe,  and  sociable  as  can  be,  so  you 
won't  mind  him." 

"  Uncle  Benson  has  relatives  at  the  South,  then  ?"  said 
Sarah,  seeing  herself  called  upon  to  say  something. 

"One  brother — James.  He  went  to  Georgy  when  he 
wasn't  more  than  sixteen  years  old,  and  has  lived  there  ever 
since.  He  married  a  rich  wife,  I  believe," — sinking  her  voice 
— "  and  has  made  money  fast,  I've  heard.  Philip  never  says 
a  word  about  their  wealth,  but  his  father  owns  a  great  plan- 
tation, for  husband  asked  him  how  many  acres  they  worked. 
Then  the  children — there  are  four  of  them — have  had  fine 
educations,  and  always  spend  money  freely.  Philip  is  not 
the  sort  to  boast  of  any  thing  that  belongs  to  him  or  his. 
He  is  a  good-hearted  boy.  He  was  here  the  August  my 
last  daughter — my  Betsy— :died,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
how  kind  and  tender  he  was  then.  I  can't  look  at  him  with- 
out thinking  how  my  Alick  would  have  been  just  his  age  if 
he  had  lived.  One  was  born  on  the  fourth  and  the  othei 
the  fifth  of  the  same  April.'' 

Keeping  up  a  decent  show  of  interest  in  these  family  de 
tails,  Sarah  divested  Jeannie  of  her  sacque  and  dress,  and 
substituted  a  cool  blue  gingham  and  a  muslin  apron.  Then, 
as  the  child  was  wild  to  run  out  of  doors,  she  suffered  hei 
to  go,  charging  her 'not  to  pass  the  boundary  of  the  yard 
fence.  Aunt  Sarah  was  dressed  in  a  second  mourning  de 


44  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OR, 

laine ;  with  a  very  plain  cap,  and  while  the  heat  obliged 
Sarah  to  lay  aside  the  thick  and  dusty  garment  she  had 
worn  all  day,  she  had  too  much  tact  to  offer  a  strong  con- 
trast in  her  own  attire  to  her  unpretending  surroundings. 
A  neat  sprigged  lawn,  modest  and  inexpensive,  was  not  out 
of  place  among  the  old-fashioned  furniture  of  her  chamber 
nor  in  the  "  best  room,"  to  which  they  presently  descended. 

Aunt  Sarah  ushered  her  into  the  apartment  with  some 
stiffness  of  ceremony.  In  truth,  she  was  not  herself  there 
often,  or  long  enough  to  feel  quite  at  ease,  her  property 
though  it  was.  Alleging  the  necessity  of  "  seeing  to  the 
tea,"  she  bade  her  niece  "make  herself  at  home,"  threw 
open  a  blind  that  she  "  might  see  the  river,"  and  left  her. 

First,  Sarah  looked  around  the  room.  It  was  large  and 
square,  and  had  four  windows,  two  in  front  and  two  in  the 
rear.  The  floor  was  covered  by  a  well-saved  carpet,  of  a 
pattern  so  antique  that  it  was  in  itself  a  curiosity;  heavy 
tables  of  a  mahogany  dark  with  age ;  upright  chairs,  with 
slippery  leathern  seats ;  a  ponderous  sofa,  covered  with  hair- 
cloth ;  small  mirrors,  with  twisted  frames,  between  the  win- 
dows ;  two  black  profiles,  of  life-size,  over  the  mantel,  and 
in  the  fire  place  a  jar  of  asparagus  boughs,  were  appoint- 
ments that  might  have  repelled  the  looker-on,  but  for  the 
scrupulous,  shining  cleanliness  of  every  article.  It  was  a 
scene  so  strange  to  Sarah  that  she  could  not  but  smile  as 
she  withdrew  her  eyes  and  turned  to  the  landscape  com- 
manded by  her  window. 

The  sight  changed  the  gleam  of  good-humored  amuse- 
ment to  one  of  more  heartfelt  pleasure.  Beyond  the  grassy 
walks  and  flower-borders  of  the  garden  behind  the  house  lay 
green  meadows,  sloping  down  to  the  river,  broad  and  smooth 
at  this  point,  so  placid  now  that  it  mirrored  every  rope  and 
Beam  of  the  sails  resting  quietly  upon'  its  surface,  and  the 
White  cottages  along  the  banks,  while  the  banks  themselves, 


HUSKS.  45 

with  their  tufts  and  crowns  of  foliage,  drooping  willows  and 
lofty  elms,  found  a  faithful  yet  a  beautified  counterpart  in 
the  stream.  The  reflected  blush  of  the  crimson  west  upon 
its  bosom  was  shot  with  flickers  of  golden  light,  and  faded 
in  the  distance  into  the  blue-gray  twilight.  The  air  seemed 
to  grow  more  deliciously  cool  as  the  gazer  thought  of  the 
hot,  pent-up  city,  and  the  beds  of  thyme  and  lavender  added 
their  evening  incense. 

The  hum  of  cheerful  voices  joined  pleasantly  with  the 
soothing  influences  of  the  hour,  and,  changing  her  position 
slightly,  Sarah  beheld  the  speakers.  Upon  a  turfy  mound, 
at  the  foot  of  an  apple-tree,  sat  Jeannie  beside  a  gentleman, 
whose  hands  she  watched  with  pleased  interest,  as  did  also 
a  boy  of  fifteen  or  thereabouts,  who  knelt  on  the  grass 
before  them.  Sarah  divined  at  once  that  this  was  her  aunt's 
deaf  and  dumb  son.  The  gentleman  was  apparently  inter 
preting  to  Jeannie  all  that  passed  between  himself  and  the 
lad,  and  her  gleeful  laugh  showed  it  to  be  a  lively  dia- 
logue. Could  this  be  Mr.  Benson's  nephew,  the  beardless 
youth  Sarah  had  pictured  him  to  herself  from  Aunt  Sarah's 
description?  He  could  not  have  been  less  than  six-and- 
twenty,  had  dark  hair  and  a  close,  curling  beard,  an  intelli- 
gent, handsome  face,  and  notwithstanding  his  loose  summer 
sack  and  lounging  attitude,  one  discerned  plainly  traces  of 
uncommon  grace  and  strength  in  his  form. 

"  What  is  he,  I  wonder  ?    A  gallant  professional  beau, 
who  will  entangle  me  in  my  speech,  and  be  an  inevitable 
appendage  in  the  excursions  ?     I  flattered  myself  I  would 
be  safe  from  all  such  drawbacks,"  thought  Sarah,  in  genuine  v 
vexation,  as  she  obeyed  her  aunt's  summons  to  tea. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Benson  read  as  much  in  her  countenance,  for, 
beyond  a  few  polite,  very  unremarkable  observations,  ad- 
dressed to  her  when  his  hosts  made  it  necessary  for  him  to 
do  so,  he  paid  her  no  visible  attention  during  the  whole 


46  THE    EMPTY   HE'ARTJ     OR, 

evening.     The  next  day  he  set  off,  the  minute  breakfast  was 
over,  with  his  gun  and  game-bag,  and  was  gone  until  sunset. 

Sarah  sat  at  her  chamber  window  as  he  came  up  to  tho 
back  door ;  and,  screened  by  the  vine  trained  over  the  sash, 
he  watched  him  as  he  tossed  his  game-bag  to  Charley  and 
shook  hands  with  Jeannie,  who  ran  up  to  him  with  the  fa- 
miliarity of  an  old  acquaintance. 

"  What  luck  ?"  questioned  his  uncle. 

"Nothing  to  boast  of,  sir;  yet  enough  to  repay  me  for  my 
tramp.  I  have  been  down  to  the  shore." 

"  Philip  Benson !  Well,  you  beat  every  thing !  I  suppose 
you  have  walked  as  much  as  ten  miles  in  all !"  exclaimed 
Aunt  Sarah,  with  a  sort  of  reproachful  admiration. 

"  I  dare  say,  madam,  and  am  none  the  worse  for  it  to- 
night. I  am  getting  used  to  your  sand,  uncle ;  it  used  to 
tire  me,  I  confess." 

He  disappeared,  into  the  kitchen,  probably  to  perform  the 
ablutions  needful  after  his  day's  walk  and  work,  for  it  was 
several  minutes  before  he  returned.  Charley  had  carried 
the  game-bag  to  the  mound  under  the  tree,  and  was  exhibit- 
ing its  contents — mostly  snipe  and  red-winged  black  birds — • 
to  his  little  cousin. 

"  It  is  refreshing  to  see  something  in  the  shape  of  man 
that  is  neither  an  effeminate  dandy  nor  a  business  machine," 
soliloquized  Sarah.  "  Ten  miles  on  foot !  How  I  would  like 
to  set  that  task  for  certain  of  our  Broadway  exquisites !" 

"  She  isn't  a  bit  like  a  city  girl !"  Aunt  Sarah  was  saying, 
as  she  followed  Philip  into  the  outer  air. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that  she  is  likely  to  be  a  nice  compan- 
ion for  you,  madam.  I  thought,  from  her  appearance,  that 
you  would  suit  each  other,"  was  the  reply,  certainly  respect- 
ful enough,  but  whose  lurking  accent  of  dry  indifference  sent 
the  blood  to  Sarah's  face. 
Hastily  withdrawing  from  the  open  window,  and  beyond 


HUSKS.  4:7 

the  reach  of  the  voices  that  discussed  her  merits,  she  waited 
to  recover  equanimity  before  going  down-stairs.  In  vain 
she  chided  herself  for  her  sudden  heat.  Mortified  she  was, 
and  even  more  ashamed  of  herself  than  angry  with  the  cool 
young  man  who  had  pronounced  her  to  be  a  fitting  associate 
fjr  her  excellent  but  unpolished  aunt.  While  his  every  look 
and  intonation  bespoke  the  educated  gentleman,  a  being  as 
different  in  mental  as  in  physical  muscle  from  the  fops  who 
formed  her  sister's  train,  had  he  weighed  her  against  the  re- 
fined woman  of  his  own  class  and  clime,  and  adjudged  her 
this  place  ?  At  heart  she  felt  the  injustice,  and,  stimulated 
by  the  sting,  arose  the  resolve  that  he  should  learn  and  con- 
fess his  error.  Not  tamely  or  willingly  would  she  accept  an 
ignoble  station  at  the  hands  of  one  whom  she  inwardly  rec- 
ognized as  capable  of  a  true  valuation  of  what  she  esteemed 
worthy. 

She  looked  haughty,  not  humbled,  when  she  took  her  seat 
opposite  her  critic  at  the  "tea-table.  "A  nice  companion," 
she  was  saying  over  to  herself.  The  very  phrase,  borrowed, 
as  it  was,  from  Aunt  Sarah's  vocabulary,  seemed  to  her 
seasoned  with  contempt.  She  kept  down  fire  and  scorn, 
however,  when  Mr.  Benson  accosted  her  with  the  tritest  of 
remarks  upon  the  probable  heat  of  the  day  in  town  as  con- 
trasted with  the  invigorating  breeze,  with  its  faint,  delicious 
sea  flavor,  that  rustled  the  grapevines  and  fluttered  the 
white  curtains  at  the  dining-room  door  and  windows.  Her 
answer  was  not  exactly  gracious,  but  it  advanced  the  one 
tempting  step  beyond  a  mere  reply. 

Thus  was  the  .ce  broken,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  meal, 
Aunt  Sarah  and  "Uncle  Nathan" — as  he  requested  his 
nieces  to  style  him — had  respite  from  the  duty  of  active  en- 
tertainment, so  far  as  conversation  went.  To  Sarah's  sur- 
prise, Mr.  Benson  talked  to  her  almost  as  he  would  have 
done  to  another  man.  lie  spoke  of  notable  persons,  places, 


48  THE   EMPTY   HEART;   on> 


and  books  —  things  of  which  she  had  heard  and  tead 
out  affectation  of  reserve  or  a  shade  of  pretension  ;  and  to 
her  rejoinders  —  brief  and  constrained  for  awhile  —  then,  as 
she  forgot  herself  in  her  subject,  pertinent,  earnest,  salient» 
he  gave  more  than  courteous  heed.  It  was  the  unaffected 
interest  of  an  inquirer  ;  the  entire  attention  of  one  who  fel 
that  he  received  more  than  he  gave. 

They  parted  for  the  night  with  a  bow  and  a  smile  that 
was  with  each  a  mute  acknowledgment  of  pleasure  derived 
from  the  companionship  of  the  other;  and  if  neither  looked 
forward  to  the  meeting  of  the  morrow  as  a  renewal  ef  con- 
genial intercourse,  both  carried  to  their  rest  the  effects  of 
an  agreeable  surprise  in  tbf  ^vents  of  the  evening. 


HUSKS.  4-9 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A  WEEK  had  passed  since  the  arrival  of  the  city  nieces  at 
the  farmhouse.  An  early  tea,  one  of  Aunt  Sarah's  generous 
and  appetizing  repasts  was  over ;  and  through  the  garden, 
out  at  the  gate  that  terminated  the  middle  walk,  and  across 
the  strip  of  meadow-land,  danced  Charley  and  Jeannie,  fol- 
lowed at  a  more  sedate  pace  by  Philip  Benson  and  Sarah. 
Seven  days'  rustication  had  wrought  a  marked  change  in 
the  town-bred  girl.  There  was  a  lighter  bound  in  her  step, 
and  in  her  cheek  a  clear,  pink  glow,  while  her  eyes  looked 
softly,  yet  brightly,  from  out  the  shadow  of  her  gypsy  hat, 
a  look  of  half  surprise,  half  confidence  in  her  companion's 
face. 

"  One  week  ago,"  he  was  saying,  "  how  firmly  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  you  and  I  could  never  be  any  thing  but 
strangers  to  each  other !  How  I  disliked  you  for  coming 
down  here  to  interfere  with  my  liberty  and  leisure  !'' 

"But  even  then  you  thought  that  I  would  prove  a  '  nice 
companion  for  Aunt  Sarah — '  perceived  my  suitableness  to 
her  society,"  was  the  demure  reply. 

"  Who  told  you  that  I  said  so  ?" 

"Not  Aunt  Sarah  herself,  although  she  considered  it 
honest  praise.  I  overheard  it  accidentally  from  my  window, 
and  I  can  assure  you  properly  appreciated  the  compliment, 
which,  by  the  way,  was  more  in  the  tone  than  the 
words." 

•*  And  you  were  thereby  piqued  to  a  different  style  of 
8 


50  THE  EMPTY   HEART;   OB, 

behavior.  Bravo!  did  ever  another  seed  so  worthless 
bring  forth  so  rich  a  harvest  ?  I  am  glad  I  said  it !  Here 
is  the  boat." 

It  was  a  pretty  little  afiair — Charley's  property  and  care, 
and  he  was  already  in  his  seat  at  the  bow,  oar  in  hand. 
Philip  helped  Sarah  in,  placed  Jeannie  beside  her,  and  sta- 
tioning himself  upon  the  middle  bench  took  up  a  second  pair 
of  oars.  A  noiseless  dip  of  the  four,  and  the  craft  glided 
out  into  the  stream,  then  up  against  the  tide,  the  water  rip- 
ling  into  a  foamy  wake  on  either  side  of  the  sharp  bow.  A 
row  was  now  the  regular  sequel  to  the  day's  enjoyments, 
and  to  Jeannie,  at  least,  the  climax  of  its  pleasures. 

"  Pull  that  way,  please,  Mr.  Benson !"  she  cried.  "There ! 
right  through  that  beautiful  red  water  !" 

A  skilful  sweep  brought  them  to  the  spot  designated,  but 
the  crimson  deserted  the  wave  as  they  neared  it,  and  left 
dull  gray  in  its  stead. 

"  It  is  too  bad !"  complained  the  child,  pointing  back  to 
the  track  of  their  boat,  quivering  amidst  the  fickle  radiance 
she  had  thought  to  reach  by  this  change  of  course.  "  It  is 
behind  us  and  before  us — everywhere  but  where  we  are !" 

"  Is  there  a  moral  in  that  ?"  questioned  Philip,  smiling  at 
Sarah. 

"  Perhaps  so." 

A  fortnight  before,  how  assured  would  have  been  her 
reply !  How  gloomy  her  recognition  of  the  analogy ! 
Changed  as  was  her  mood,  a  shade  fell  over  her  counten- 
ance. Was  it  of  apprehension,  and  did  Philip  thus  interpret 
it? 

"  I  could  not  love  life  and  this  fair  world  as  I  do,  if  I 
conceded  this  to  be  universally  true,"  he  said.  "That  there 
comes,  sometimes,  a  glory  to  the  present,  beside  which  the 
hues  of  past  and  future  fade  and  are  "forgotten,  I  must  and 
will  believe.  Such,  it  seems  to  me,  must  be  the  rapture  of 


HUSKS.  51 

reciprocal  and  acknowledged  affection  ;  the  joy  of  reunion 
after  long  separation  from  the  beloved  one;  the  bliss  of 
reconciliation  after  estrangement.  Have  you  ever  thought 
how  much  happier  we  would  be  if  we  were  to  live  only  in 
the  Now  we  have,  and  never  strain  our  eyes  with  search- 
ings  for  the  lights  and  shades  of  what  may  be  before  us,  or 
with  '  mournful  looking'  after  what  is  gone  ?" 

"  Yet  is  this  possible  ?"  asked  Sarah,  earnestly.  "  Does 
not  the  very  constitution  of  our  natures  forbid  it  ?  To  me 
that  would  be  a  miserably  tame,  dead-level  existence  over 
which  Hope  sheds  no  enchanting  illusions ;  like  this  river, 
as  we  saw  it  three  days  ago,  cold  and  sombre  as  the  rain- 
clouds  that  hung  above  it.  Oh,  no !  give  me  any  thing  but 
the  chill,  neutral  tint  of  such  a  life  as  thousands  are  content 
to  lead — people  who  expect  nothing,  fear  nothing — I  had 
almost  said,  feel  nothing  !" 

"  That  is  because  every  principle  of  your  being  is  at  war 
with  common-places.  Tell  me  frankly,  Miss  Sarah,  did  you 
ever  meet  another  woman  who  had  as  much  character  as 
yourself?" 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  understand  the  full  bearing  ol 
your  question."  She  leaned  on  the  side  of  the  boat,  her 
hand  playing  in  the  water,  her  lips  working  in  an  irresolute 
timidity  that  was  oddly  at  variance  with  their  habitual  firm- 
ness. 

"  I  am  aware,"  she  began,  slowly  and  gravely,  "  that  I 
express  myself  too  strongly  at  times ;  that  I  am  more  ab- 
rupt in  language  and  action  than  most  other  girls.  I  have 
always  been  told  so  ;  but  it  is  natural  to  me.  My  charac- 
ter has  many  rough  and  sharp  edges  that  need  softening 
and  rounding — " 

"  In  order  to  render  you  one  of  the  pretty  automatons, 
the  well-draped,  thoronghly-oiled  pieces  of  human  clock- 
work that  decorates  men's  homes — falsely  so  called — in  these 


52  THE    EMPTY     HEART;     OR, 

days  of  gloss  and  humbug !"  interrupted  Philip  with  ener- 
gy. "  I  am  sick  to  death  of  the  dollish  *  sweet  creatures' 
every  boarding-school  turns  out  by  the  score.  I  understand 
all  the  wires  that  work  the  dear  puppets — flatter  myself  that 
I  can  put  them,  through  their  paces  (excuse  the  slang !)  in  as 
short  a  time  as  any  other  man  of  my  age  in  the  country. 
The  delightful  divinities  !  A  little  music,  and  a  little  less 
French ;  a  skimming  of  the  arts  and  sciences ;  and  it  is  a 
rare  thing  to  meet  one  who  can  tell  an  art  from  a  science 
ten  days  after  she  has  graduated — a  stock  of  pet  phrases — 
all  hyperbolical,  consequently  unmeaning — a  glib  utterance 
of  the  same ;  a  steady  devotion  to  balls,  beau-catching, 
gossip,  and  fancy-work ;  voild  the  modern  fine  lady — the 
stuff  we  are  expected  to  make  wives  of !  Wives!  save  the 
mark !  I  never  think  of  the  possibility  of  being  thus  en- 
snared without  an  involuntary  repetition  of  a  portion  of 
the  Litany — '  From  all  such,  etc.,  etc. !'  " 

He  plied  his  oars  with  renewed  activity  for  a  moment, 
then  suspended  them  to  continue,  in  a  softer  tone  :  "  And 
this  is  the  representative  woman  of  your  Utopia,  Miss 
Sarah  ?" 

"  Did  I  intimate,  much  less  assert,  such  a  heresy  ?"  re- 
sponded she,  laughing.  "  But  there  is  a  golden  mean  some- 
where— a  union  of  gentleness  and  energy  ;  of  domestic  and 
literary  taste;  of  independence  and  submission.  I  have 
seen  such  in  my  day  dreams.  She  is  my  ideal." 

"Which  you  will  one  day  embody.  No  reproachful 
looks !  This  is  the  sincerity  of  a  friend.  I  have  promised 
never  to  flatter  you  again,  and  do  not  violate  the  pledge  in 
speaking  thus.  From  my  boyhood,  I  have  made  human 
nature  my  study,  and  it  would  be  hard  to  convince  me  that 
I  err  in  this  case." 

"  You  do  !  indeed  you  do !"  exclaimed  Sarah,  with  a  look 
of  real  pain.  "  I  lack  the  first  characteristic  of  the  portrait 


H  IT  8  K  8  .  53 

I  have  drawn.     I  am  not  gentle !     I  ne^«#r  was.     I  fear  that 
I  never  -will  be !" 

"  Let  us  hear  a  competent  witness  on  that  head.  Jean- 
nie !"  to  the  child,  who  was  busy  spelling  on  her  fingers  to 
Charley ;  his  nods  and  smiles  to  her,  from  the  far  end  of 
the  boat,  being  more  intelligible  to  her  than  were  her  at- 
tempts to  signal  her  meaning  to  him.  "  Jeannie  !"  repeated 
Philip,  as  he  caught  her  eye.  "  Come,  and  whisper  in  my 
ear  which  of  your  sisters  you  love  the  best.  Maybe  I  won't 
tell  tales  out  of  school  to  the  one  you  care  least  for." 

"  I  don't  care  who  knows !"  said  the  saucy,  but  affection- 
ate child.  "  Sis'  Lucy  is  the  prettiest,  and  she  never  scolds 
me  either;  but  she  doesn't  make  my  clothes,  and  tell  me 
nice  stories,  and  help  me  with  my  lessons,  and  all  that,  you 
know.  She  isn't  my  dear,  best  sister !"  And,  springing  up 
suddenly,  the  threw  her  arms  around  Sarah's  neck,  with  a 
kiss  that  answered  the  question  with  emphasis. 

Sarah's  lip  trembled.  The  share  of  affection  she  had 
hitherto  dared  to  claim  as  her  own  had  barely  sufficed  to 
keep  her  heart  from  starving  outright.  She  had  often 
dreamed  of  fulness  of  love  as  a  stay  and  comfort,  as  solace 
and  nutriment  in  a  world  whose  wrong  side  was  ever  turned 
to  her.  Now  there  dawned  upon  her  the  sweetness  and 
beauty  of  a  new  revelation,  the  bliss  of  loving  and  being 
beloved.  Over  life  floated  a  warm,  purple  tinge,  like  the 
sunset  light  upon  the  river.  For  the  first  time  within  the 
reach  of  her  memory  her  heart  rested! 

In  the  smile  whose  overflowing  gave  a  tender  lovelines 
to  her  features,  Philip  saw  the  effect  he  had  wished  and 
anticipated,  and,  motioning  to  Chai-ley  to  let  the  boat  drift 
with  the  current,  he  picked  up  the  guitar,  that  by  Sarah's 
request  was  always  taken  along  in  these  excursions. 

"The  dew  is  on  the  blossom, 

And  the  young  moon  on  the  sea ; 


54  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

Jt  is  the  twilight  hour— 

The  hour  for  you  and  me ; 
The  time  when  memory  lingers 

Across  life's  dreary  track, 
When  the  past  floats  up  before  us, 

And  the  lost  comes  stealing  back." 

It  \vas  a  love  song,  inimitable  in  its  purity  and  tenderness, 
with  just  the  touch  of  sadness  that  insured  its  passage  to 
the  heart.  Sarah's  smile  was  softer,  but  it  was  a  smile  still, 
as  the  melody  arose  on  the  quiet  air.  When  the  ballad  was 
concluded,  she  only  said ;  "  Another,  please !" 

Philip  sang  more  than  well.  Without  extraordinary 
power,  his  voice  had  a  rich  and  flexible  quality  of  tone  and 
a  delicacy  of  expression  that  never  failed  to  fascinate.  To 
the  rapt  and  listening  girl  it  seemed  as  if  time  could  bi'ing 
no  more  delicious  fate  than  thus  to  glide  on  ever  upon  thia 
empurpled,  enchanted  stream,  the  summer  heavens  above 
her,  and,  thrilling  ear  and  soul,  the  witching  lullaby  that 
rocked  her  spirit  to  dreams  of  the  youth  she  had  never  had, 
the  love  for  which  she  had  longed  Avith  all  the  wild  intensi- 
ty, the  fervent  yearning,  her  deep  heart  could  feel. 

Still  they  floated  on  with  the  receding  tide,  its  low  wash- 
ing against  the  sides  of  their  boat  filling  up  the  pauses  of  the 
music.  The  burning  red  and  gold  of  the  sky  cooled  into 
the  mellower  tints  of  twilight,  and  the  pale  curve  of  the 
young  moon  shone  with  increasing  lustre.  Jeannie  fell 
asleep,  her  head  upon  her  sister's  lap ;  the  dumb  boy  sat 
motionless  as  stone,  his  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  moon ;  there 
seemed  some  spell  upon  the  little  party.  Boat  after  boat 
passed  them,  almost  noiselessly,  for  far  into  the  clear  evening 
went  the  tones  of  the  singer's  voice,  and  the  dullest  hearer 
could  not  withhold  the  tribute  of  admiring  silence  until  be 
yond  its  reach. 

And  Sarah,  nappy  in  the  strange,  restful  languor  that 
locked  her  senses  to  all  except  the  blessed  present,  dreamed 


55 


on,  the  music  but  a  part  of  her  ideal  world,  this  new  and 
beautiful  life.  Into  it  stole  presently  a  theme  of  sadness,  a 
strain  of  grief,  a  heart-cry,  that,  ere  she  was  aware,  Wrung 
her  own  heart-strings  with  anguish. 

"  The  long,  long,  weary  day 

Is  passed  in  tears  away, 
And  still  at  evening  I  am  weeping. 
When  from  my  window's  height 
1  look  out  on  the  night, 
I  am  still  weeping, 
My  lone  watch  keeping. 

"  When  I,  his  truth  to  prove, 
Would  trifle  with  my  love, 
He'd  say,  Tor  me  thou  wilt  be  weeping, 
When,  at  some  future  day, 
I  shall  be  far  away ; 
Thou  wilt  be  weeping, 
Thy  lone  watch  keeping.' 

"  Alas !  if  land  or  sea 

Had  parted  him  from  me, 
I  would  not  these  sad  tears  be  weeping; 
But  hope  he'd  come  once  more, 
And  love  me  as  before ; 
And  say,  '  Cease  weeping, 
Thy  lone  watch  keeping.' 

"  But  he  is  dead  and  gone, 

Whose  heart  was  mine  alone, 
And  now  for  him  I'm  sadly  weeping. 
His  face  I  ne'er  shall  see, 
And  naught  is  left  to  me 
But  bitter  weeping, 
My  lone  watch  keeping." 

If  ever  a  pierced  and  utterly  hopeless  soul  poured  forth 
its  plaint  in  musical  measure,  it  was  in  the  wondrously  sim- 
ple and  unspeakably  plaintive  air  to  which  these  words  are 


56  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   on, 

set.  There  breathes  in  it  a  spirit  wail  so  mournfully  sincere 
that  one  recognizes  its  sob  in  the  very  chords  of  the  accom- 
paniment. The  mere  murmur  of  the  melody,  were  no  words 
ttered,  tells  the  story  of  grieving  desolation. 

Sarah  did  not  move  or  speak,  yet  upon  her  enchanted 
ground  a  cloud  had  fallen.  She  saw  the  high  casement  and 
its  tearful  gazer  into  the  night,  a  night  not  of  music,  and 
moonlight,  and  love,  but  chill,  and  wet,  and  dreary.  Rain 
dripped  from  eaves  and  trees ;  stone  steps  and  pavements 
caught  a  ghastly  gleam  from  street  lamps ;  save  that  sorrow- 
ful watcher,  there  was  no  living  creature  abroad  or  awake. 
She  grew  cold  and  sick  with  looking  into  those  despairing 
eyes ;  the  gloom,  the  loneliness,  the  AVOC  of  that  vigil  became 
her  own,  and  her  heart  sank  swooning  beneath  the  burden. 

As  she  ceased  the  song,  Philip  looked  up  for  some  com- 
ment or  request.  To  his  surprise,  she  only  clasped  her 
hands  in  a  gesture  that  might  have  been  either  relief  from 
or  abandonment  to  woe,  and  bowed  her  head  upon  them. 
Puzzled,  yet  flattered  by  her  emotion,  he  refrained  from  in- 
terrupting her ;  and,  resuming  his  oars,  lent  the  impetus  of 
their  stroke  to  that  of  the  tide.  Nothing  was  said  until  the 
keel  grated  upon  the  shelly  beach  opposite  the  farmhouse. 
Then,  as  Philip  stooped  to  lift  the  unconscious  Jeannie,  he 
imagined  that  he  discerned  the  gleam  of  the  sinking  moon 
upon  Sarah's  dripping  eyelashes. 

The  fancy  pursued  him  after  he  had  gone  up  to  his  room. 
Seated  at  his  window,  looking  out  upon  the  now  starlit  sky, 
he  smoked  more  than  one  cigar  before  his  musing  fit  was 
ended.  It  was  not  the  love-reverie  of  a  smitten  boy.  IIo 
believed  that  he  had  passed  that  stage  of  sentimentalism  ten 
years  before.  That  Southerner  of  the  male  gender  who  has 
not  been  consumed  by  the  fires  and  arisen  as  good  as  new 
from  the  ashes  of  half  a  dozen  never-dying  passions  before 
he  is  eighteen,  who  has  not  offered  the  heart  and  baud, 


HUSKS.  57 

which  as  often  as  otherwise  constitute  his  chiefest  earthly 
possessions,  to  some  elect  fair  one  by  the  time  he  is  one-and- 
twenty,  is  voted  "  slow"  or  invulnerable.  If  these  suscepti- 
ble sons  of  a  fervid  clime  did  not  take  to  love-making  aa 
naturally  as  does  a  duckling  to  the  pond  by  the  time  the 
eggshell  is  fairly  off  of  its  head,  they  would  certainly  be  ini- 
tiated while  in  the  callow  state  by  the  rules  and  customs  of 
society.  Courtship  is  at  first  a  pastime,  then  an  art,  then 
when  the  earnestness  of  a  real  attachment  takes  hold  of  their 
impassioned  natures,  it  is  the  one  all-absorbing,  eager  pur- 
suit of  existence,  until  rewarded  by  the  acquisition  of  its  ob- 
ject or  thwarted  by  the  decided  refusal  of  the  hard-hearted 
Dulcinea. 

This  state  of  things,  this  code  of  Cupid,  every  Southern 
girl  understands,  and  shapes  her  conduct  accordingly. 
Sportively,  yet  warily,  she  plays  around  the  hook,  and  he  is 
a  very  fortunate  angler  who  does  not  in  the  moment  of  fan- 
cied success  discover  that  she  has  carried  off*  the  bait  as  a 
trophy  upon  which  to  feed  her  vanity,  and  left  him  to  be 
the  laughing-stock  of  the  curious  spectators  of  this  double 
game.  She  is  imperturbable  to  meaning  equivoques,  receives 
pretty  speeches  and  tender  glances  at  their  current  value, 
and  not  until  the  suit  becomes  close  and  ardent,  the  attach- 
ment palpable  to  every  one  else,  and  is  confessed  in  so  many 
words,  does  she  allow  herself  to  be  persuaded  that  her 
adorer  is  "  in  earnest,"  and  really  desires  to  awaken  a  sym- 
pathetic emotion  in  her  bosom. 

Philip  Benson  was  no  wanton  trifler  with  woman's  feel- 
ings. On  the  contrary,  he  had  gained  the  reputation  in  his 
circle  of  an  invincible,  indifferent  looker-on  of  the  pseudo 
and  real  combats,  in  Love's  name,  that  were  continually 
transpiring  around  him.  Chivalrous  in  tone,  gallant  in  ac- 
tion, as  he  was,  the  girls  feared  while  they  liked  and  admired 
him.  They  called  him  critical,  fastidious,  cold ;  and  mock- 
3* 


58  THE  EMPTY  IIEART;    OR, 

ingly  wondered  why  he  persisted  in  going  into  company, 
that,  judging  the  future  by  the  past,  was  so  unlikely  to  fur- 
nish him  with  the  consort  he  must  be  seeking.  In  reality, 
he  was  what  he  had  avowed  himself  to  Sarah — a  student  of 
human  nature ;  an  amateur  in  this  species  of  social  research 
— than  which  no  other  so  frequently  results  in  the  complete 
deception  of  the  inquirer.  Certainly  no  other  is  so  apt  to 
find  its  culmination  of  devotion  in  a  cold-blooded  dissection 
of  motive,  morals,  and  sentiment ;  an  unprincipled,  reckless 
application  of  trial  and  test  to  the  hearts  and  lives  of  its  vic- 
tims and  final  infidelity  in  all  human  good,  except  Avhat  is 
concentrated  in  the  inspector's  individual,  personal  self. 
Grown  dainty  amid  the  abundant  supply  of  ordinary  mate- 
rial, he  comes  at  length  to  disdain  common  "  subjects." 
Still  less  would  he  touch  one  already  loathsome  in  the  popu 
lar  estimation,  through  excess  of  known  and  actual  crime. 
But  a  character  fresh  and  noble  from  the  Creator's  hand ;  a 
soul  that  dares  to  think  and  feel  according  to  its  innate  sense 
of  right ;  an  intellect  unhackneyed,  not  vitiated  by  worldly 
policy  or  the  dogmas  of  the  schools ;  a  heart,  tender  and 
delicate — yet  passionate  in  love  or  abhorrence  ;  what  an  op- 
portunity is  here  presented  for  the  scalpel,  the  detective  acid, 
the  crucible,  the  microscope  !  It  is  not  in  fallible  mortality 
to  resist  the  temptation,  and  even  professors  of  this  en- 
nobling pursuit,  whose  motto  is,  "  The  proper  study  of  man- 
kind is  Man,"  are,  as  they  allow  with  shame  and  confusion 
of  face,  themselves  mortal.  Of  all  the  dignified  humbugs  of 
the  solemn  farce  of  life,  deliver  me  from  that  creature  self- 
styled  "  a  student  and  judge  of  character!" 

In  Sarah  Hunt,  Philip  discovered,  to  his  surpi'ise,  a  rare 
"  specimen ;"  a  volume,  each  leaf  of  which  revealed  new 
matter  of  interest.  The  attentions  he  had  considered  him- 
self bound  to  pay  her,  in  order  to  avoid  wounding  their  kind 
hosts,  were  soon  rendered  from  a  widely  different  motive. 


HUSKS.  59 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  was  transcending  the  limits 
of  merely  friendly  courtesy,  as  prescribed  by  the  etiquette 
of  the  region  in  which  he  was  now  a  sojourner.  He  was  by 
no  means  deficient  in  appreciation  of  his  personal  gifts  ;  rated 
his  powers  of  pleasing  quite  as  highly  as  did  his  warmest 
admirers,  although  he  had  the  common  sense  and  tact  to 
conceal  this ;  but  he  would  have  repelled,  as  an  aspersion 
upon  his  honor,  the  charge  that  he  was  endeavoring  to  win 
this  young  girl's  affections,  his  heart  being  as  yet  un- 
touched. 

"  Was  it  then  altogether  whole  ?"  he  asked  himself  to-night, 
with  a  coolness  that  should  have  been  an  immediate  reply  to 
the  suggestion. 

Side  by  side,  he  set  two  mental  portraits,  and  strove  de- 
liberately, impartially,  to  discern  any  traces  of  resemblance 
between  the  two.  The  future  Mrs.  Benson  was  a  personage 
that  engrossed  much  of  his  thoughts,  and  by  long  practice 
in  the  portrayal  of  her  lineaments,  he  had  brought  his  fancy 
sketch  very  nearly  to  perfection.  A  tall,  Juno-like  figure, 
with  raven  locks,  and  large,  melting  eyes,  unfathomable  as 
clear ;  features  of  classic  mould ;  an  elastic,  yet  stately  form  ; 
a  disposition  in  which  amiability  tempered  natural  impetu- 
osity, and  generous  impulse  gave  direction  to  gentle  word 
and  deed ;  a  mind  profoundly  imbued  with  the  love  of  learn- 
ing, and  in  cultivation,  if  not  strength,  equal  to  his  own  ; 
discretion,  penetration,  and  docility  combined  in  such  pro- 
portions as  should  render  her  her  husband's  safest  counsellor, 
yet  willing  follower ;  and  controlling  and  toning  the  har- 
monious whole,  a  devotion  to  himself  only  second  in  degree, 
not  inferior  in  quality,  to  worship  of  her  Creator.  This  was 
the  ideal  for  whose  embodiment  our  reasonable,  modest 
Coelebs  was  patiently  waiting.  Answer,  oh  ye  expectant,  in- 
cipient Griseldas !  who,  from  your  beauteous  ranks,  will  step 
into  the  prepared  niche,  and  make  the  goddess  a  reality  ? 


60  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OK, 

And  how  appeared  the  rival  picture  in  comparison  ? 

"  No,  no !"  he  ejaculated,  tossing  the  remnant  of  his  thin! 
cigar  into  the  garden.  "  I  must  seek  further  for  the  '  golden 
mean.'  Intellect  and  heart  are  here,  undoubtedly.  I  must 
have  beauty  and  grace  as  well.  Yet,"  he  continued,  releut- 
ingly,  "  there  are  times  when  she  would  be  quite  handsome 
if  she  dressed  better.  It  is  a  pity  her  love  for  the  beautiful 
does  not  enter  into  her  choice  of  wearing  apparel !" 

In  ten  minutes  more  he  was  asleep,  and  dreamed  that  he 
stood  at  the  altar  with  his  long  sought  ideal,  when,  as  the 
last  binding  words  were  spoken,  she  changed  to  Sarah  Hunt, 
arrayed  in  a  light  blue  lawn  of  last  year's  fashion,  that  made 
her  look  as  sallow  as  a  lemon,  and,  to  his  taste,  as  little  to 
be  desired  for  "  human  nature's  daily  food." 

Poor  Sarah  !  The  visionary  robe  was  a  faithful  reflection 
upon  the  dreamer's  mental  retina  of  a  certain  organdie 
which  had  formed  a  part  of  Lucy's  wardrobe  the  previous 
summer,  and  having  become  antiquated  in  six  months'  time, 
was  altogether  inadmissible  in  the  belle's  outfit  of  this  sea- 
son. 

"  Yet  it  cost  an  awful  sum  when  it  was  new !"  reasoned 
Mrs.  Hunt,  "  and  will  make  you  a  very  useful  dress  while 
you  are  with  your  Aunt  Sarah.  It's  too  good  to  cut  up  for 
Jeannie !" 

"  But  the  color,  mother  ?"  objected  the  unwilling  re 
cipient. 

"  Pooh !  who  wilt  notice  that  ?  Besides,  if  you  had  a 
good  complexion,  you  could  wear  blue  as  well  as  anybody." 

Sarah's  stock  of  thin  dresses  was  not  plentiful,  and,  re- 
siling this  observation,  she  coupled  it  with  the  fact  that  she 
was  growing  rosy,  and  dared  to  equip  herself  in  the  azure 
garment,  with  what  effect  she  did  not  dream  and  Mr.  Philip 
Benson  did! 


HUSKS.  61 


CHAPTER   V. 

ON  a  pleasant,  although  rather  cloudy  forenoon  in  July, 
our  young  pleasure-seekers  carried  into  execution  a  long- 
talked-of  expedition  to  the  Deal  Beach,  distant  about  ten 
miles  from  Shrewsbury. 

By  Aunt  Sarah's  arrangement,  Charley  and  Jeannie  oc- 
cupied the  back  seat  of  the  light  wagon,  and  Sarah  was  to 
sit  by  Philip  in  front,  that  she  "  might  see  the  country." 
Having  accomplished  this  apparently  artless  manoeuvre,  the 
good  woman  handed  up  to  them  a  portly  basket  of  luncheon, 
and  two  or  three  additional  shawls,  in  case  of  ram  or  change 
of  weather,  and  bade  the  gay  party  "  Good-by"  with  a 
satisfied  glow  in  heart  and  face.  To  her  guileless  apprehen- 
sion there  was  no  question  how  affairs  were  progressing 
between  her  niece  and  her  nephew-in-law ;  and  in  sundry 
conferences  on  the  subject  between  "  husband"  and  herself, 
it  had  been  agreed  that  a  matrimonial  aUiance  would  be  the 
best  thing  that  could  happen  to  either  of  the  supposed 
lovers.  In  her  simple,  pious  soul,  the  dear  old  lady  already 
blessed  the  Providence  that  had  accomplished  the  meeting 
and  intercourse  under  her  roof,  while  she  wondered  at  "the 
strange  things  that  come  about  in  this  world." 

Philip  had  been  aware  of  her  innocent  attempts  to  facili- 
tate his  suit  for  several  days  past,  and  Sarah's  blush,  as  she 
hesitated,  before  accepting  the  proffered  seat  by  the  driver, 
showed  that  this  move  was  so  transparent  as  to  convey  the 
alarm  to  her  also.  For  a  full  half  mile  Philip  did  not  speak, 


62  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OR, 

except  a  word  now  and  then  to  the  pair  of  stout  grays, 
who  were  Uncle  Nathan's  greatest  earthly  boast.  He  ap- 
peared thoughtful,  perhaps  perturbed — so  Sarah's  single 
stolen  glance  at  him  showed — and  in  the  eyes  that  looked 
straight  onward  to  the  horizon,  there  was  a  hardness  she 
had  never  seen  there  before.  She  was  surprised,  therefore, 
when  he  broke  the  silence  by  an  unimportant  observation, 
uttered  in  his  usual  friendly  tone,  and  for  the  remainder  of 
the  ride  was  gay  and  kind,  with  a  shoAV  of  light-heartedness 
that  was  not  surpassed  by  the  merry  children  beliind  them. 

There  was  hardly  enough  variety  in  the  unpicturesque 
country  bordering  their  route  to  give  the  shadow  of  reason- 
ableness to  Aunt  Sarah's  pretext  in  selecting  her  namesake's 
seat,  and,  despite  her  escort's  considerate  attentions,  Sarah 
had  an  uncomfortable  ride  ;  while  her  manner  evinced  more 
of  the  haughty  reserve  of  their  introduction  than  she  had 
shown  at  any  subsequent  stage  of  their  acquaintance.  The 
grays  travelled  well,  and  a  little  after  noon  they  were  de- 
tached from  the  carriage,  and  tied  in  the  grove  of  scrub-oaks 
skirting  the  beach. 

While  Philip  was  busied  with  them,  the  others  continued 
their  course  down  to  the  shore  ;  the  children,  hand-in-hand, 
skipping  over  sand-hills,  and  stopping  to  pick  up  stones ; 
Sarah  strolling  slowly  after  them.  She  had  seen  the  ocean- 
surf  before,  but  never  aught  like  this,  with  its  huge  swells 
of  water,  a  mile  in  length,  gathering  blackness  and  height 
on  their  landward  career ;  as  they  struck  the  invisible 
barrier  that  commanded,  "  Thus  far  and  no  farther !"  break- 
ing in  white  fury,  with  the  leap  of  a  baffled  fiend,  and  a 
roar  like  thunder,  against  their  resistless  opponent,  then 
recoiling,  sullenly,  to  gather  new  force  for  another,  and  as 
useless  an  attack.  The  beach  was  wide  and  uneven,  of 
sand,  whose  whiteness  would  have  glared  intolerably  had 
the  day  been  sunny,  drifted  into  hillocks  and  undulating 


HUSKS.  63 

ridges,  like  the  waves  of  the  sea.  Here  and  there  the  hardy 
heath«;r  found  a  foothold  amid  the  otherwise  blank  sterility, 
the  green  patches  adding  to,  rather  than  lessening  the  wild, 
desolate  aspect  of  the  tract.  Fragments  of  timber  were 
strewn  in  all  directions,  and  Sarah's  quick  eye  perceived 
that  it  was  not  formless,  chance  driftwood.  There  were 
hewn  beams  and  shapely  spars,  and  planks  in  which  great 
iron  bolts  were  still  fast.  When  Philip  overtook  her,  she 
was  standing  by  an  immense  piece  of  solid  wood,  lying  far 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  highest  summer  tides.  One  end  was 
buried  in  the  sand ;  the  other,  bleached  by  sun  and  wind, 
and  seamed  with  cracks,  was  curved  like  the  extremity  of  a 
bow.  Her  late  embarrassment  or  hauteur  was  forgotten  in 
the  direct  earnestness  of  her  appealing  look. 

"  Am  I  mistaken  ?"  she  said,  in  a  low,  awed  lone.  "  Is 
not  this  the  keel  of  a  ship  ?" 

"  It  is.     There  have  been  many  wrecked  on  this  coast." 

"  Here  !"  She  glanced  from  the  fierce,  bellowing  break- 
ers to  the  melancholy  testimonial  of  their  destructive  might. 
"  I  have  never  heard  that  this  was  esteemed  a  dangerous 
point." 

"  You  can  form  but  an  imperfect  idea  of  what  this  beach 
is  in  winter,"  remarked  Philip,  signing  to  her  to  seat  herself 
upon  the  sand,  and  thro  whig  himself  down  beside  her.  "  I 
was  here  once,  late  in  the  autumn,  and  saw  a  vessel  go  to 
pieces,  scarcely  a  stone's  throw  from  where  we  are  now  sit- 
ting. The  sea  was  high,  the  wind  blowing  a  perfect  gale, 
and  this  schooner,  having  lost  one  of  her  most  important 
sails,  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  elements.  She  was  cast  upon 
the  shore,  and  her  crew,  watching  their  opportunity,  sprang 
overboard  as  the  waves  receded,  and  reached  firm  ground 
hi  safety.  Then  came  a  monster  billow,  and  lifting  the  ves- 
sel farther  upon  the  sand,  left  her  careened  towards  the  land. 
It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  poor  thing !  so  like  life  were  hei 


64  THE    EMPTY    HEAKTJ     OB, 

shudders  and  groans,  as  the  cruel  surf  beat  against  her,  that 
my  heart  fairly  ached.  The  spray,  at  every  dash,  arose 
nearly  as  high  as  her  mast-head,  and  a  cataract  of  water 
swept  over  her  deck.  Piece  by  piece  she  broke  up, 
and  we  could  only  stand  and  look  on,  while  the  scattered 
portions  were  thrown  to  our  very  feet.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  sight.  It  taught  me  the  truth  of  man's  impotence  and 
nature's  strength  as  I  had  never  read  it  before." 

"  But  there  were  no  lives  lost !  You  were  spared  the 
spectacle  of  that  most  terrible  scene  in  the  tragedy  of  ship- 
wreck." 

"  Yes.  But  the  light  of  many  a  life  has  been  quenched 
in  that  raging  caldron.  A  young  man,  a  resident  of 
Shrewsbury,  with  whom  I  hunted  last  year,  described  to  me 
a  catalogue  of  horrors  which  he  had  beheld  here,  that  has 
visited  me  in  dreams  often  since.  An  emigrant  ship  was 
cast  away  on  this  coast,  in  midwinter.  High  above  the  roar 
of  the  wind  and  the  booming  surf,  was  heard  the  cry  of  the 
doomed  wretches,  perishing  within  hail  of  the  crowd  of 
fellow-beings  who  had  collected  at  news  of  the  catastrophe. 
The  cold  was  intense  ;  mast,  and  sail,  and  rope  were  coated 
with  ice,  and  the  benumbed,  freezing  wretches  were  exposed 
every  instant  to  the  torrents  of  brine  that  swept  over  them 
like  sleet.  The  agony  was  horrible  beyond  description,  but 
it  was  soon  over.  Before  the  vessel  parted,  the  accent  of 
mortal  woe  was  hushed.  Not  a  man  survived  to  tell  the 
tale!" 

For  an  hour,  they  sat  thus  and  talked.  The  subject  had, 
for  Sarah,  a  feai-ful  fascination,  and,  led  on  by  her  absorbed 
attention,  Philip  rehearsed  to  her  wonders  and  stories  of  the 
mysterious  old  ocean,  that  to-day  stretched  before  them, 
blanched  and  angry,  under  the  veil  of  summer  cloud,  until  to 
his  auditor  there  were  bitter  wailings  blent  with  the  surge's 
roar ;  arms,  strained  and  bare,  were  tossed  above  the  dark, 


HUSKS.  65 

serpent-like  swell  of  water,  in  unavailing  supplication,  and 
livid,  dead  faces  stared  upon  her  from  beneath  the  curling 
crests  of  the  breakers. 

That  day  on  the  Deal  Beach  !  How  quietly  happy  was  its 
seeming !  how  full  of  event,  emotion,  fate — was  its  reality ! 
Charley  and  Jeannie  wandered  up  and  down  the  coast,  fill- 
ing their  baskets  with  shells  and  pebbles;  chasing  the  re- 
tiring waves  as  far  as  they  dared,  and  scampering  back,  with 
shrieks  of  laughter,  as  the  succeeding  billow  rolled  rapidly 
after  them ;  building  sand-houses,  and  digging  wells  to  be 
filled  by  salt-water  ;  exulting  greatly  when  a  rough  coralline 
fragment,  or  a  jelly-fish  of  unusual  dimensions  was  thrown 
in  their  way.  They  all  lunched  together,  seated  upon  the 
heather-clumps,  around  Aunt  Sarah's  liberal  hamper. 

"Sister!"  said  Jeannie,  when  the  edge  of  her  sea-side 
appetite  was  somewhat  blunted  by  her  repast, "  I  like  living 
here  better  than  in  Now  York — don't  you?" 

"  It  is  more  pleasant  in  summer,  my  dear." 

"  But  I  mean  that  I  am  happier  here !  I  wish  you  would 
write  to  mother,  and  ask  her  to  let  us  live  here  always." 

"  But  what  would  she  do  without  her  baby  ?"  asked  Phil- 
ip, emphasizing  the  last  word. 

The  little  lady  bridled  instantly. 

"  Cousin  Phil !  I  do  wish  you  would  never  call  me  a 
'  baby'  again !  I  am  seven  years  and  two  weeks  old.  I 
could  get  along  very  well  without  mother  for  a  while.  Of 
course,  I  would  go  over  sometimes,  and  pay  her  a  visit  and 
get  new  dresses.  Shrewsbury  is  a  nice  place  ;  I  would  like 
to  buy  that  pretty  white  house  next  to  Uncle  Nathan's,  and 
live  there — sister,  and  Charley,  and  I — and  you — if  you 
would  promise  not  to  tease  me  ever !" 

"  Thank  you  !"  said  Philip,  with  admirable  gravity,  seem- 
ing not  to  note  Sarah's  heightened  color  at  this  proposal  of 
copartnership.  "  You  are  very  kind  to  include  me  in 


66  THE  EMPTY  HE  ART;   OR, 

household  arrangements,  and  nothing  would  please  me  bet- 
ter,  if  I  could  stay  here.  But  you  know,  Jeannie,  my  dear 
little  cousin,  that  my  home  is  far  away  from  this  quarter  of 
the  world.  I  have  remained  here  too  long  already."  There 
was  a  touch  of  feeling  or  nervousness  in  his  voice.  "  I  had 
a  letter  last  night,  reminding  me  that  I  ought  to  have  left  a 
week  ago,  to  join  a  party  of  friends,  whom  I  promised  to 
meet  in  New  York,  and  travel  with  them  until  the  time  for 
our  return  to  the  South." 

He  did  not  look  at  Sarah,  but  she  felt  that  the  explanation 
was  intended  for  her — that,  whether  intentionally  or  not,  he 
was  preparing  her  for  a  blow  to  heart  and  hope. 

"  I  shall  be  obliged  to  leave  Shrewsbury  and  ah1  my  friends 
there,  to-morrow  morning,  Jeannie  !" 

The  child's  exclamation  of  dismay,  and  Charley's  quick, 
mute  remonstrance  to  his  cousin,  as  his  playfeUow  commu- 
nicated the  news  to  him,  gava  Sarah  time  to  rally  firmness 
and  words. 

"  This  is  unexpected  intelligence,"  she  said,  calmly.  "  We 
shall  miss  you.  Your  kindness  has,  directly  and  indirectly,- 
been  the  means  of  affording  us  much  pleasure  during  our 
visit  to  our  good  aunt.  It  will  seem  dull  when  you  are 
gone." 

There  was  a  flash  in  Philip's  eye  that  looked  like  pleasure 
— a  mixture  of  relief  and  surprise,  as  he  turned  to  her. 

"  I  am  selfish  enough  to  hope  that  you  will  miss  me  for  a 
time,  at  least.  I  shall  not  then  be  so  soon  forgotten.  We 
have  had  some  pleasant  days  and  weeks  together ;  have  we 
not  ?" 

"7"  have  enjoyed  them,  assuredly." 

She  was  a  little  pale,  Philip  thought,  but  that  might  be 
the  effect  of  fatigue.  Her  cheek  was  seldom  blooming, 
unless  when  flushed  in  animated  speech,  or  by  brisk  exer 
cise.  She  spoke  of  his  going  with  politeness,  that  seemed 


HUSKS.  67 

scarce  one  remove  from  carelessness ;  and,  man-like,  hia 
pleasure  at  the  thought  that  their  association  in  the  country 
house  had  not  been  followed  by  the  results  Aunt  Sarah 
wished  and  predicted,  gave  way  to  a  feeling  of  wounded 
vanity  and  vexation,  that  his  summer's  companion  could  re 
linquish  him  so  easily.  While  he  repeated  to  himself  his 
congratulations  that  his  friendly  and  gallant  attentions  had 
not  been  misconstrued,  had  not  awakened  any  inconvenient 
because  futile  "  expectations,"  he  wondered  if  it  were  a  pos 
sibility  for  a  girl  of  so  much  sense  and  feeling,  such  genuine 
appreciation  of  his  talents  and  tastes,  to  know  him  well— - 
even  intimately — without  experiencing  a  warmer  sentiment 
than  mere  approval  of  an  agreeable  associate's  mind  and 
manners,  and  Platonic  liking  for  him  on  these  accounts. 

With  the  respectful  familiarity  of  a  privileged  acquaint- 
ance, he  drew  her  hand  within  his  arm,  as  they  arose  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  collation. 

"  We  have  yet  two  hours  and  more  to  spend  here,  before 
we  set  out  for  home.  We  can  have  one  more  walk  and  talk 
together." 

They  took  but  one  turn  on  the  beach,  and  returning  to 
their  morning's  seat  beside  the  half-buried  keel,  tried  to  talk 
as  they  had  done  then.  It  was  hard  work,  even  to  the  man 
,of  the  world,  the  heart-free  student  of  human  nature. 
Gradually  the  conversation  languished  and  died  away,  and, 
for  a  while,  both  sat  silent,  looking  out  upon  the  sea.  Then 
Philip's  gaze  came  back  to  his  companion — stealthily  at  first, 
and,  as  she  remained  unconscious  of  his  scrutiny,  it  lingered 
long  and  searchingly  upon  features,  form,  and  attire. 

There  were  white,  tight  lines  about  her  mcuth,  and  a 
Blight  knitting  of  the  brow,  that  imparted  a  care-worn  look 
to  the  young  face,  it  pained  him  to  see.  Her  hands  were 
clasped  upon  her  knee,  and  the  fingers  were  bloodless  where 
they  interlaced  one  another.  Was  she  suffering  ?  Was  the 


68  THE  EMPTY  HEAKT;   OB, 

threatened  parting  the  cause  of  her  disquiet?  If  this  were 
so,  what  was  his  duty  as  a  man  of  honor — of  common  hu- 
manity ?  And  if  he  were  forced  to  admit  that  he  held  her 
happiness  in  his  power,  and  to  accept  the  consequences  that 
must  ensue  from  his  idle  gallantry  and  her  mistaken  read- 
ing of  the  same,  was  the  thought  really  repulsive  ?  Would 
it  be  a  total  sacrifice  of  feeling  to  a  sense  of  right  ?  It  was 
a  repetition,  grave  and  careful,  of  the  revery  of  that  July 
night,  two  weeks  ago. 

Sarah's  hat — a  broad -brimmed  "flat"  of  brown  straw — had 
fallen  back  upon  her  shoulders,  and  the  sea-breeze  played  in 
her  hair,  raising  the  short  and  loose  strands,  and  giving  to 
the  whole  a  rough,  "  frowzy"  look.  Her  plain  linen  collar 
and  undersleeves  showed  her  complexion  and  hands  to  the 
worst  possible  advantage.  Upon  her  cheeks,  this  same  un- 
friendly wind  had  bestowed  a  coat  of  tan  and  a  few  freck- 
les, that  were  all  the  more  conspicuous  from  her  pallor,  while 
her  fingers  were  as  brown  as  a  gypsy's.  Her  gray  poplin 
dress  had  lost  most  of  its  original  gloss,  and  being  one  of 
Mrs.  Hunt's  bargains — "  a  cheap  thing,  but  plenty  good  for 
that  outlandish  Shrewsbury" — already  betrayed  its  cotton 
warp  by  creases  that  would  not  be  smoothed,  and  an  aspect 
of  general  limpness — a  prophecy  of  speedy,  irremediable 
shabbiuessi  Cast  loosely  about  her  shoulders  was  a  light 
shawl,  green,  with  black  sprigs — another  bargain  ;  and  be- 
yond the  skirt  of  her  robe  appeared  the  toe  and  instep  of  a 
thick-soled  gaiter,  very  suitable  for  a  tramp  through  damp 
sand,  yet  any  thing  but  becoming  to  the  foot  it  protected. 

With  an  impatient  shake  of  the  head,  involuntary  and 
positive,  Philip  closed  his  final  observation.  And  cutting 
off  a  large  splinter  from  the  weather-beaten  timber,  against 
which  he  leaned,  set  about  trimming  it,  wearing  a  serious, 
settled  face,  that  said  his  mind  was  fully  made  up 

What  had  Sarah  seen  all  this  while  ? 


HTJBK8.  69 

Heavens,  over  which  the  films  of  the  forenoon  had  thick- 
ened into  dun  cloud-curtains,  stretching  above,  and  enwrap- 
ping the  world ;  a  wild,  dreary  expanse  of  troubled  waters, 
whose  horizon  line  was  lost  in  the  misty  blending  of  sea 
and  sky,  ever  hurrying  and  heaving  to  moan  out  their  unrest 
upon  the  barren  beach.  In  the  distance  was  a  solitary  sail 
nearer  to  the  land,  a  large  sea-bird  flew  heavily  against  the 
wind.  In  such  mateless,  weary  flight,  must  her  life  be  passed ; 
that  lone,  frail  craft  was  not  so  hopelessly  forlorn  upon  a 
gloomy  sea,  beneath  a  sky  that  gloomed  yet  more  darkly — 
as  was  her  heart,  torn  suddenly  from  its  moorings — anchor, 
and  rudder,  and  compass  gone !  Yet  who  could  syllable 
the  mighty  sorrow  of  the  complaining  sea?  And  were 
there  words  in  human  language,  that  could  tell  the  anguish 
of  the  swelling  flood  beating  .within  her  breast  ? 

"  Going  away !  To-morrow !"  For  a  little  space  this 
was  all  the  lament  she  kept  repeating  over  to  herself. 
Pregnant  with  woe  she  knew  it  to  be,  yet  it  was  not  until 
she  was  allowed  to  meditate  in  silence  upon  the  meaning  of 
the  words  that  she  realized  what  had  truly  come  upon  her. 
She  had  thrown  away  all  her  hope  of  earthly  happiness — 
risked  it  as  madly,  lost  it  as  surely,  as  if  she  had  tossed  it — 
a  tangible  pearl — into  the  yawning  ocean.  Her  instinct 
assured  her  that,  were  it  otherwise,  the  tidings  of  Philip's 
intended  departure,  his  suddenly  formed  resolution  to  leave 
ner,  would  have  been  conveyed  to  her  in  a  far  different 
manner.  Her  keen  backward  glance  penetrated  Aunt 
Sarah's  simple  wiles  ;  his  obvious  annoyance  thereat ;  his 
determination  to  save  himself  from  suspicion  ;  his  honorable 
fear  lest  she,  too,  should  imagine  him  loving,  where  he  was 
only  civil  and  kind.  Yes,  it  was  all  over !  The  best  thing 
she  could  hope  to  do,  the  brightest  prospect  life  had  now 
for  her,  was  that  her  secret  should  remain  hers  alone,  until 
the  troubled  heart  moaned  itself  into  the  rest  which  knows 


70  THE    EMPTY    HEART;    OB, 

no  waking.  She  was  used  to  concealment.  All  her  exist- 
ence, excepting  the  sweet  delusive  dream  of  the  past  three 
weeks,  had  been  a  stern  preparation  for  this  trial.  But  she 
was  already  weary  and  faint — fit  to  lie  down  and  die,  so 
intense  had  been  the  throe  of  this  one  struggle. 

"  How  long  is  this  to  last  ?     How  long  ?" 

The  exclamation  actually  broke,  in  an  inarticulate  murmur, 
from  her  lips. 

"  Did  you  speak  ?"  inquired  Philip. 

"  I  think  not.  I  am  not  sure.  I  did  not  intend  to  do 
so!" 

"  Grant  me  credit  for  my  forbearance  in  not  obtruding 
my  prosaic  talk  upon  your  musings,"  he  went  on,  playfully. 
"  It  was  a  powerful  temptation — for  I  remember,  constantly, 
that  this  is  our  last  opportunity  for  a  genuine  heart  and 
head  confabulation,  such  as  I  shall  often  linger  for,  after  I 
leave  you — and  sincerity !  You  have  done  me  good,  Miss 
Sarah ;  taught  me  Faith,  Hope,  Charity — a  blessed  sister- 
hood !" 

"  May  they  ever  attend  you !" 

"  Amen !  and  thank  you !  And  what  wish  shall  I  make 
in  return  for  your  beautiful  benediction  ?" 

"  Whatever  you  like.  My  desires  are  not  many  or  ex- 
travagant." 

"  You  are  wrong.  You  have  a  craving  heart  and  a  crav- 
ing mind.  May  both  be  fed  to  the  full,  with  food  convenient 
for  them — in  measures  pressed  down,  shaken  together,  and 
running  over." 

"Of  what?  Husks?"  was  Sarah's  unspoken  and  bitter 
eply.  She  could  not  thank  him,  as  he  had  done  her  She 
only  bowed,  and,  bending  forward,  took  up  a  handful  of  the 
fine  white  sand  that  formed  the  shore.  Slowly  sifting  it 
through  her  fingers,  she  waited  for  him  to  speak  again. 

Was   this   careless   equanimity   real    or    feigned  ?     The 


H  U  8  K  8 .  71 

judge  of  character,  the  harpist  upon  heart-chords,  made  the 
next  move — not  the  candid  manly  friend. 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  a  favor  of  you — a  bold  one." 

"  Say  on." 

"  By  the  time  I  am  ready  to  retrace  my  steps  southward, 
you  Avill  be  again  settled  in  New  York.  Will  you  think  me 
presumptuous,  if  I  call  at  your  father's  house  to  continue  an 
acquaintance  which  has  been,  to  me,  at  once  agreeable  and 
profitable  ?" 

The  fingers  were  still,  suddenly.  A  warm  glow,  like 
sunrise,  swept  over  cheek  and  forehead.  A  smile,  slight 
but  sweet,  quivered  upon  her  lips.  Drowning  in  the  depths, 
she  heard  across  the  billow  a  hail  that  spoke  of  hope,  life, 
happiness. 

"  We  will  all  be  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said,  with  affected 
composure. 

"  Not  half  so  glad  as  I  shall  be  to  come.  Will  you  now, 
while  you  think  of  it,  give  me  your  address  ?" 

He  handed  her  a  card  and  a  pencil.  She  wrote  the  re- 
quired direction,  and  received  in  exchange  for  it  the  now 
smooth  bit  of  wood,  which  had  afforded  occupation  to  Philip 
for  half  an  hour  past.  It  was  tendered  in  mock  ceremony, 
and  accepted  smilingly.  Upon  the  gray  tablet  was  inscrib- 
ed, "Philip  Benson,  Deal  Beach,  July  27th,  1856."  A 
playful  or  thoughtless  impulse  caused  him  to  extend  his 
hand  for  it,  after  she  had  read  it,  and  to  add  a  motto,  stale 
as  innocent  in  his  eyes :  Pensez  d  moi  /" 

"  I  shah1  preserve  it  as  a  souvenir  of  the  day  and  place," 
observed  Sarah,  slipping  it  into  her  pocket. 

Twilight  overtook  them  before  they  reached  home,  and 
the  night  was  too  cloudy  and  damp  for  a  promenade,  such 
as  they  often  had  in  the  garden  walks  and  lane,  or  for  the 
customary  family  gathering  in  the  long  porch.  Yet  Aunt 
Sarah  was  surprised  that  Philip  was  apparently  content  to 


72  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OR, 

spend  the  evening  in  the  sitting-room,  with  herself  and 
husband  by,  to  spoil  the  tete-d-tete  he  must  be  longing  for. 

Still  more  confounded  was  she,  when,  after  her  clever 
strategy  of  coaxing  Uncle  Xathan  into  the  kitchen,  that  the 
coast  might  be  clear,  she  heard  Philip's  step  close  behind 
them 

"  I  must  clean  my  gun  to-night,  aunt,"  he  said,  taking  it 
from  the  corner ;  "  I  shall  not  have  time  to  do  it  to-mor- 
row." 

With  the  utmost  nonchalance  he  began  the  operation, 
•whistling  softly  a  lively  air  over  his  work.  Aunt  Sarah 
gave  her  partner  a  look  of  bewildered  despair,  which  he 
returned  by  a  confirmatory  nod,  and  a  smile,  half  comic,  half 
regretful 

After  breakfast  next  morning,  the  nephew-guest  said 
affectionate  farewells  to  his  relatives  and  Jeannie;  a  grave, 
gentle  adieu  to  Sarah,  accompanied  by  a  momentary  pres- 
sure of  the  hand,  that  may  have  meant  much  or  little ;  and 
upon  the  snug  homestead  settled  a  quiet  that  was  dreari- 
ness itself  to  one  of  its  inmates. 


HUSKS.  73 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MEANWHILE,  how  had  the  time  sped  to  the  nominal  head 
of  the  Hunt  household — the  solitary,  toiling  father  and 
husband?  The  servants  were  dismissed  when  "the  fami- 
ly" left  town,  although  Mr.  Hunt  continued  to  sleep  at 
home.  A  peripatetic  maid-of-all-work — what  the  English 
denominate  a  char-woman — was  engaged  to  come  early 
eve.ry  morning  to  clear  up  the  only  room  in  the  establish- 
ment that  was  used,  before  the  cashier  went  out  for  his 
breakfast,  which  he  procured  at  a  restaurant  pretty  far 
down  town.  The  same  quiet  coffee-house  furnished  him 
wtth  dinner  and  an  early  tea,  after  which  last  refreshment 
he  was  at  liberty  to  pass  the  evening  hi  whatever  manner 
he  liked  best.  There  was  nothing  in  the  city  worth  seeing 
at  this  season,  even  if  he  had  not  lost  all  taste  for  shows 
and  gayety.  Those  of  his  acquaintances  who  were  not 
absent  with  their  wives  and  daughters,  were  living  like 
.himself,  furniture  in  overalls  ;  carpets  covered;  apartments 
closed,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  one  bedroon? ;  and 
had  no  place  in  which  to  receive  him  if  he  had  been  in  th 
habit  of  visiting,  which  he  was  not.  He  was  very  tired, 
moreover,  by  the  title  night  came  on,  and  as  the  heat 
increased,  and  the  days  grew  longer,  his  strength  waned 
more  and  more,  and  his  spirits  with  it.  Meekly  and  uncom- 
plainingly he  plodded  through  his  routine  of  bank  duties, 
so  steady  and  so  faithful  that  his  fellow-workers  and 
customers  had  come  to  regard  him  as  a  reliable  fixture;  a 
4 


T4  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    on, 

piece  of  machinery,  whose  winding  up  was  self-performed 
and  whose  accuracy  was  infallible. 

When,  therefore,  on  a  sultry  August  afternoon,  he  turned 
to  leave  his  desk  at  the  close  of  business  hours,  grew 
terribly  pale,  and  dropped  upon  the  floor  in  a  tit  of  death- 
like faintness,  there  was  great  consternation,  and  as  much 
wonder  as  if  no  human  clock-work  had  ever  given  out 
before,  under  a  like  process  of  exhausting  demands. 

Clumsily,  but  with  the  best  of  intentions,  they  brought 
him  to  his  senses,  and  in  half  an  hour  or  so  he  was  suffi- 
ciently recovered  to  be  taken  home.  There  was  a  twitch- 
ing of  the  lips  that  might  have  passed  for  a  sarcastic  smile, 
as  he  heard  the  proposal  to  convey  him  to  his  house ;  but  ho 
only  gave  his  street  and  number,  and  lay  silently  back  in 
the  carriage,  supported  by  his  friends,  two  of  whom  insisted 
upon  seeing  him  safely  to  his  own  abode. 

"  Is  this  the  place  ?  Why,  it  is  all  shut  up  !"  exclaimed 
one  of  these  gentlemen,  as  the  driver  drew  up  before  the 
dusty  steps. 

Mrs.  Hunt's  orders  were  that  the  entrance  to  her  mansion 
should  present  the  most  desolate  air  possible  during  her 
absence.  It  had  "  an  aristocratical  look  in  the  summer  time, 
when  everybody  but  nobodies  was  rusticating." 

Again  that  singular  contortion  of  the  mouth,  and  the 
master  (?)  of  the  forlorn-looking  habitation  prepared  to 
descend,  fumbling  in  his  pocket  for  his  pass-key. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you,  gentlemen,  for  your  great  kindness, 
and  will — not — trouble — you — longer." 

In  trying  to  raise  his  hand  to  his  hat  for  a  bow,  the 
ghastly  hue  again  overspread  his  face,  and  he  staggered. 
Without  further  parley,  his  two  aids  laid  hold  of  him,  one 
on  each  side,  and  supported  him  into  the  house,  up  one,  two 
flights  of  linen-draped  stairs,  to  a  back  bedroom. 

Mrs.  Hunt  would  have  let  her  husband  faint  on  the  side- 


HUSKS.  75 

walk  before  she  would  have  received  company  in  that 
chamber  in  its  present  condition ;  for  the  handsomest  arti- 
cles of  furaiture  stood  covered  up  in  another  apartment,  aud 
their  place  was  supplied  by  a  plain  bureau,  wash-stand,  and 
bed  belonging  to  the  boys'  room,  a  story  higher  up.  The 
wisdom  of  this  precaution  was  manifest  in  the  signs  of 
neglect  and  slovenliness  displayed  on  all  sides.  One  could 
have  written  his  name  in  the  dust  upon  the  glass ;  there 
was  dirt  in  every  corner  and  under  each  chair  and  table ;  the 
wash-basin  was  partly  full  of  dirty  suds,  and  the  towels  and 
counterpane  shockingly  dingy. 

These  things  were  not  remarked  by  the  intruders  until 
they  had  got  their  charge  to  bed,  resisted  no  longer  by  him, 
for  he  began  to  comprehend  his  inability  to  help  himself. 

"  There  is  no  one  beside  ourselves  on  the  premises,  not 
even  a  servant,"  one  of  them  said,  apart  to  his  associate, 
after  a  brief  absence  from  the  room.  "  If  you  will  stay  with 
him  until  I  come  back,  I  will  go  for  a  doctor." 

The  invalid  caught  the  last  word. 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Hammond,  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  do 
any  thing  more — no  necessity  for  calling  in  a  physician.  I 
am  quite  comfortable  now,  and  shall  be  well  by  morning." 
.  Mr.  Hammond,  who  was  a  director  in  the  bank,  and 
sincerely  honored  the  honest  veteran  now  prostrated  by  his 
devoted  performance  of  duty,  took  the  hot,  tremulous 
hand  in  his. 

"  I  cannot  allow  you  to  peril  your  valuable  health,  my 
dear  sir.  Unless  you  positively  forbid  it,  I  shall  not  only 
call  your  physician,  but  drop  in  again  myself  this  evening, 
and  satisfy  my  mind  as  to  whether  you  require  my  presence 
through  the  night." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word ;  but  no  amount  of  per 
suasion  could  induce  Mr.  Hunt  to  accept  his  offered  watch, 
He  would  be  "uneasy,  unhappy,  if  his  young  friend  sacri 


/6  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OR, 

{iced  his  own  rest  so  uselessly,"  and  loath  as  he  was  to  leav« 
him  to  solitude  and  suffering,  Mr.  Hammond  had  to  yield. 
At  his  morning  visit,  he  found  the  patient  more  tractable. 
After  tedious  hours  of  fevered  wakefulness,  he  had  en- 
deavored to  rise,  only  to  sink  back  again  upon  his  pillow — 
dizzy,  sick,  and  now  thoroughly  alarmed  at  the  state  of  his 
system.  He  did  not  combat  his  friend's  proposal  to  obtain 
a  competent  nurse,  and  to  look  in  on  him  in  person  as  often 
as  practicable  ;  still,  utterly  refused  to  allow  his  wife  to  be 
written  to  on  the  subject  of  his  indisposition. 

"  I  shall  be  better  in  a  day  or  two,  probably  before  she 
could  reach  me.  I  have  never  had  a  speh1  of  illness.  It  is 
not  likely  that  this  will  be  any  thing  of  consequence.  I 
greatly  prefer  that  she  should  not  be  apprised  of  this 
attack." 

Mr.  Hammond  was  resolute  on  his  part — the  more  de- 
termined, when  the  physician  had  paid  another  visit,  and 
pronounced  the  malady  a  low  fever,  that  would,  doubtless, 
confine  the  sick  man  to  his  bed  for  several  days,  if  not 
weeks. 

"It  is  not  just  to  your  wife  and  children,  Mr.  Hunt,  to 
keep  them  in  ignorance  of  so  important  a  matter!"  he  urged. 
"  They  will  have  cause  to  feel  themselves  aggrieved  by  you,, 
and  ill-treated  by  me,  if  we  practise  this  deception  upon 
them." 

Mr.  Hunt  lay  quiet  for  some  minutes. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  in  the  right,"  he  said.  "  Sarah  would 
be  wounded,  I  know.  I  will  send  for  her!"  he  concluded, 
with  more  animation.  "  She  will  come  as  soon  as  she  re- 
ceives the  letter." 

"  Of  course  she  will !"  rejoined  Mr.  Hammond,  confident- 
ly ;  "you  are  not  able  to  write.  Suffer  me  to  be  your 
amanuensis."  He  sat  down  at  a  stand,  and  took  out  his  pen. 
"  Where  is  Mrs.  Hunt  at  present  ?" 


HUSKS.  /7 

"  I  am  not  sure.     Either  at  Saratoga  or  Newport. ' 

Mr.  Hammond  looked  surprised.  "  But  it  is  necessary, 
sir,  that  we  should  know  with  some  degree  of  certainty,  or 
the  letter  may  miscarry.  Perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  write 
to  both  places." 

"  The  letter !  Both  places !"  repeated  Mr.  Hunt,  with 
perplexity.  "I  alluded  to  my  daughter  Sarah,  sir,  my 
second  child,  who  is  spending  the  summer  with  her  aunt  in 
Shrewsbury,  New  Jersey.  May  I  take  the  liberty  of  asking 
you  to  write  her  a  short  note,  mentioning  my  sickness  in  as 
guarded  terms  as  you  can  use,  and  requesting  her  to  come 
up  to  the  city  for  a  few  days  ?  She  has  my  youngest  child — 
a  little  girl — with  her.  If  she  can  be  contented  to  remain 
with  her  aunt,  Sarah  had  better  leave  her  there.  She  would 
be  an  additional  burden  to  her  sister  if  she  were  here." 

Whatever  Mr.  Hammond  thought  of  the  marked  prefer- 
ence shoAvn  to  the  daughter  above  the  wife,  he  said  nothing, 
but  proceeded  to  indite  the  desired  epistle,  adding,  in  a 
postscript,  on  his  own  account,  that  he  would  take  pleasure 
in  meeting  Miss  Hunt  at  the  wharf,  on  her  arrival,  and  for 
this  purpose  would  be  at  the  boat  each  day,  until  she  made 
her  appearance  in  New  York. 

He  went,  accordingly,  the  next  afternoon,  although  very 
sure  that  she  could  not  have  received  his  letter  hi  season  to 
take  that  boat.  Mr.  Hunt  had  proved  to  him  and  to  him- 
self the  utter  impossibility  of  her  coming,  yet  his  eyea 
brightened  with  expectancy  as  his  friend  entered,  and  faded 
into  sadness  as  he  reported  the  ill-success  of  his  errand. 

"  He  is  evidently  extremely  partial  to  this  one  of  hia 
children,"  thought  Mr.  Hammond,  as  he  paced  the  wharf  on 
the  second  evening,  watching,  amid  noisy  hack-drivers  and 
express-men,  for  the  steamer.  "  I  have  seen  the  girls  at 
parties,  but  do  not  remember  their  names.  One  of  them  is 
very  pretty.  I  wonder  if  she  is  '  Sarah !' " 


78  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

It  was  growing  dusk  as  the  boat  touched  the  pier.  So 
dim  was  the  light,  that  Mr.  Hammond  was  obliged  to 
station  himself  close  beside  the  gangway,  and  inspect  the 
features  of  each  lady  passenger  more  narrowly  than  polite- 
ness would,  in  other  circumstances,  have  warranted.  They 
hurried  across,  men  and  women,  tall  and  short,  stout  and 
slender,  until  there  tripped  towards  him  the  figure  of  a 
young  girl,  attired  in  a  gray  dress  and  mantle,  and  carrying 
a  small  travelling  bag  in  her  hand.  She  would  have  passed 
him,  had  he  not  stepped  forward  and  spoken. 

"  Miss  Hunt,  I  believe  !" 

In  the  uncertain  twilight,  he  could  see  that  she  grew 
very  pale. 

"  How  is  my  father  ?" 

There  was  no  preamble  of  civility  or  diffidence ;  no  re- 
serve in  addressing  him,  a  mere  stranger ;  no  trembling, 
preparatory  queries ;  but  a  point-blank  question,  in  a  tone 
whose  impatient  anguish  moved  his  kind  heart ;  a  piercing 
look,  that  would  know  the  truth  then  and  there ! 

"He  is  better,  to-day" — and  he  led  her  out  of  the  press 
of  the  onward  stream.  "  He  has  not  been  dangerously  ill. 
We  hope  and  believe  that  he  will  not  be." 

"  Is  that  true  ?"     Her  fingers  tightened  upon  his  arm. 

"  It  is !  I  would  not,  for  the  world,  deceive  you  in  such 
a  matter." 

"  I  believe  you  !  Thank  Heaven !  I  feared  the  worst !" 
She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 

Hammond  beckoned  to  a  hackman,  close  by,  and  wheu 
the  short-Jived  reaction  of  over-wrought  feeling  subsided  so 
far  as  to  allow  Sarah  to  notice  surrounding  objects,  she  was 
seated  in  the  carriage,  screened  from  curious  or  impertinent 
gazers,  and  her  escort  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Several 
minutes  elapsed  before  he  again  showed  himself  at  the 
window. 


"I  must  trouble  you  for  your  checks,  Miss  Hunt,  Ji 
order  to  get  your  baggage." 

Already  ashamed  of  her  emotion,  she  obeyed  his  demand 
•without  speaking. 

"  You  have  given  me  but  one, '  he  said,  turning  it  over 
in  his  hand. 

"That  is  all,  sir." 

"  Indeed !  You  are  a  model  traveller !  I  thought  no 
young  lady,  in  these  days,  ever  stirred  from  home  without 
half  a  dozen  trunks."  To  himself  he  added,  "  A  sensible 
girl !  An  exception  to  most  of  her  sex,  in  one  thing,  at 
any  rate !" 

Sarah  sat  well  back  into  her  corner,  as  they  drove  up 
lighted  Broadway,  and  was  almost  rudely  taciturn,  while 
her  companion  related  the  particulars  of  her  father's  seizure 
and  subsequent  confinement  to  his  room.  Yet,  that  she 
listened  with  intense  interest,  the  narrator  knew  by  her 
irregular  breathing  and  immovable  attitude.  As  they 
neared  their  destination,  this  fixedness  of  attention  and 
posture  was  exchanged  for  an  eager  restlessness.  She  leaned 
forward  to  look  out  of  the  window,  and  when  they  turned 
into  the  last  street,  quick  as  was  Mr.  Hammond's  motion  to 
unfasten  the  door  of  the  vehicle,  her  hand  was  first  upon 
the  lock.  It  was  cold  as  ice,  and  trembled  so  much  as  to  be 
powerless.  Gently  removing  it,  he  undid  the  catch,  and 
assisted  her  to  alight. 

The  hired  nurse  answered  their  ring,  and  while  Sarah 
brushed  past  her,  and  flew  up  the  stairway,  Mr.  Hammond 
detained  the  woman  to  make  inquiries  and  issue  directions. 

*'  It  is  all  very  dreary -like,  sir,"  she  complained.  "  Ever} 
thing  is  packed  away  and  locked  up.  There's  no  getting  at 
a  lump  of  sugar  without  a  hunt  for  the  key,  and  all  he's 
seemed  to  care  for  this  blessed  day,  was  that  his  daughter 
should  be  made  comfortable.  He  sent  me  out  this  after 


80  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OB, 

noon  to  buy  biscuits,  and  sardines,  and  peaches  for  her  tea, 
and  told  me  where  I'd  find  silver  and  china.  It  is  not  at 
all  the  thing  for  him  to  be  worrying  at  such  a  rate.  He'll 
be  worse  for  it  to-morrow,  and  so  I've  told  him,  Mr. 
Hammond." 

"  Perhaps  not,  Mrs.  Kerr.  His  daughter's  coming  will 
cheer  him  and  quiet  him  too,  I  doubt  not.  I  will  not  go 
up  now.  Please  present  my  regards  to  Mr.  Hunt,  and 
say  that  I  will  call  to-morrow." 

He  purposely  deferred  his  visit  until  the  afternoon,  sup- 
posing that  Miss  Hunt  might  object  to  his  early  and  un- 
ceremonious appearance  in  the  realms  now  under  her  con- 
trol ;  nor  when  he  went  did  he  ascend  at  once  to  the  sick- 
chamber,  as  was  his  custom  before  the  transfer  of  its 
superintendence.  Sending  up  his  name  by  the  nurse,  he 
awaited  a  formal  invitation,  among  the  shrouded  sofas  and 
chairs  of  the  sitting-room. 

"  You'll  please  to  walk  up,  sir !"  was  the  message  he  re- 
ceived; and  the  woman  subjoined,  confidentially,  "Things 
is  brighter  to-day,  sir." 

They  certainly  were.  With  wonderfully  little  noise  and 
confusion,  Sarah,  assisted  by  the  nurse,  had  wrought  an 
utter  change  in  the  desolate  apartment.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  the  bureau,  which  had  been  drawn  out  of  sight  into 
the  adjoining  dressing-room,  and  the  bedstead,  the  com- 
mon, defaced  furniture  had  disappeared,  and  its  place  was 
supplied  by  more  comfortable  and  elegant  articles.  The 
windows  were  shaded,  without  giving  an  aspect  of  gloom 
to  tlie  chamber ;  the  bed-coverings  were  clean  and  fresh ; 
and  the  sick  man,  supported  by  larger  and  plumper  pillows 
than  those  among  which  he  had  tossed  for  many  weary 
nights,  greeted  his  visitor  with  a  cordial  smile  and  out- 
stretched hand. 

"I  thank  you  for   your  kind  care  of  my  daughter  last 


HUSKS. 

evening,  sir.     Sarah,  my  dear,  this  is  my  friend,  Mr. 
mond,  to  whose  goodness  I  am  so  much  indebted." 

"  The  debt  is  mine  no  less,"  was  the  frank  reply  as  she 
shook  hands  with  hei  new  acquaintance.  "  We  <?  .a  never 
thank  you  sufficiently,  Mr.  Hammond,  for  all  you  aave  done 
or  us,  in  taking  care  of  him." 

"A  genuine  woman!  a  dutiful,  affectionat  daughter!" 
was  now  Hammond's  comment,  as  he  disclaiir  ;d  all  right  to 
her  gratitude.  "None  of  your  sentiment .1,  affected  ab- 
surdities, with  nothing  in  either  head  or  heart !" 

This  impression  was  confirmed  by  daily  observation ;  for 
politeness  first,  then  inclination,  induced  him  to  continue  his 
"professional"  calls,  as  Sarah  styled  them.  He  seemed  to 
divide  with  her  the  responsibility  of  her  position.  Its 
duties  were  onerous;  but  for  this  she  did  not  care.  She 
was  strong  and  active,  and  love  made  labor  light — even 
welcome  to  her.  A  competent  cook  was  inducted  into 
office  below  stairs,  and  house  .old  matters  went  forward 
with  system  and  despatch.  r  he  eye  of  the  mistress,  pro 
tern.,  was  over  all ;  her  hanc1  ever  ready  to  lift  her  share  of 
the  load,  yet  her  attendant  at  her  father's  bedside  appeared 
unremitting.  His  diseas' ,  without  being  violent,  was  dis- 
tressing and  wearing,  destroying  sleep  and  appetite,  and 
preying  constantly  upon  the  nerves.  To  soothe  these, 
Sarah  read  and  talked  cheerfully,  and  often,  at  his  request, 
sang  old-time  ballads  and  childish  lullabys  to  court  diversion 
and  slumber. 

Occasionally  Lewis  Hammond  paused  without  the  door 
nntil  the  strain  was  concluded,  drinking  in  the  notes  with, 
more  pleasure  than  he  was  wont  to  feel  in  listening  to  the 
bravuras  and  startling,  astonishing  cadenzas  that  were  war- 
bled in  his  ears  by  the  amateur  cantatrices  of  the  "best 
circles;"  then,  when  the  sounds  from  within  ceased,  he 
delayed  his  entrance  some  moments  longer,  lest  the  song- 
4* 


82  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OB, 

stress  should  suspect  his  eaves-dropping.  He  ceased  to 
speculate  upon  the  reasons  of  Mrs.  Hunt's  protracted  ab- 
sence at  a  time  when  no  true-hearted  wife  could,  from 
choice,  remain  away  from  her  rightful  post.  When,  at  the 
expiration  of  a  fortnight  from  the  day  of  the  attack,  the 
physician  declared  his  patient  feebly,  but  surely  conva- 
lescent, his  young  friend  had  decided,  to  his  entire  satisfac- 
tion, that  things  were  best  as  they  were.  Mr.  Hunt  had 
made  a  most  judicious  selection  from  the  female  portion 
of  his  family,  and  what  need  of  more  nurses  when  this  one 
was  so  efficient  and  willing?  He  caught  himself  hoping 
that  the  fussy  dame  he  had  met  in  society  would  not 
abridge  her  summer's  recreation  on  account  of  an  ailing 
husband.  He  had  designed  going  to  Saratoga  himself,  for 
ten  days  or  two  weeks ;  but  he  was  very  well.  It  was  diffi- 
cult to  get  away  from  business,  and  this  affair  of  Mr. 
Hunt's  enlisted  his  sympathies  so  deeply,  that  he  could  not 
resolve  upon  leaving  him.  If  he  had  never  before  enjoyed 
the  bliss  that  flows  from  a  disinterested  action,  he  tasted  it 
now. 

Mrs.  Hunt  was  not  kept  in  total  ignorance  of  what  was 
transpiring  at  home.  Sarah  had  written,  cautiously  and 
hopefully,  of  her  father's  sickness  and  her  recall ;  repeat- 
ing Mr.  Hunt's  wish  that  his  consort  should  not  hurry  back 
through  mistaken  solicitude  for  his  health  and  comfort ;  and 
they  were  taken  at  their  word.  A  week  elapsed  before  an 
answer  arrived — a  lengthy  missive,  that  had  cost  the  writer 
more  pains  and  time  than  the  preparation  for  her  annual 
"crush"  generally  did.  She  was  an  indifferent  penman, 
and  sadly  out  of  practice;  but  there  was  much  to  be  said, 
^nd  "  Lucy,  of  course,  circumstanced  as  she  was,  could  not 
spare  time  to  be  her  scribe." 

The  significant  phrase  underscored  quickened  Sarah's 
curiosity ;  but  there  was  nothing  for  the  next  three  pages 


HTJ8Z8.  83 

that  fed  or  quieted  it.  They  were  filled  with  minute  direc- 
tions about  housewifery — economical  details,  that  wo^uld 
have  served  as  capita,  illustrations  of  "Poor  Richard's" 
jniaxims;  injunctions,  warnings,  and  receipts  sufficient  in 
quantity  to  last  a  young,  frugally-disposed  housekeeper  for 
the  remainder  of  her  natural  existence.  It  was  a  trial  to 
this  exemplary  wife  and  mother,  she  confessed,  to  absent 
herself  so  long  from  her  home  duties;  but  circumstances 
had  compelled  her  stay  at  Saratoga.  Of  their  nature, 
Sarah  had  already  been  informed  in  her  sister's  last  letter. 

"  Which  I  cannot  have  received,  then — "  Sarah  inter- 
rupted herself  to  say,  as  she  read  to  her  father :  "  I  have 
not  heard  from  Lucy  in  four  weeks.  I  have  thought  hard 
of  her  for  not  writing." 

•"  But,"  concluded  Mrs.  Hunt,  "  matters  looks  well  just 
now,  and  I  know  your  father  will  aggree,  when  he  heers 
all  about  our  season's  work,  that  our  labor  and  Money  has 
been  a  good  investment.  Take  care  of  the  keys  yourself, 
Sarah.  Be  pruedent,  keep  a  sharp  Lookout  on  the  cook, 
and  don't  negleck  your  poor  father.  Your  Affectionate 
mother,  E.  HUNT. 

"P.  S.  Your  kitchen  Girl  must  have  a  Great  deel  of 
spair  Time.  Set  her  to  work  cleening  the  House,  for  you 
may  expeckt  us  home  in  two  weeks,  or  maybe  Less. 

«E.  H." 

Lucy  had  slipped  a  note  in  the  same  envelope — a  thin, 
satiny  sheet,  hardly  larger  than  the  little  hand  that  had 
tnovea  over  its  perfumed  page.  Her  chirrgraphy  was  very 
running,  very  light,  very  ladylike,  and,  we  need  not  say, 
Very  italical 

"  Mamma  tells  me,  Sarah  dear,  that  she  has  given  yon  a 
hint  of  how  matters  are  progressing  between  your  humble 
servant  and  our  particular  friend,  of  whom  I  wrote  in  my 


84  THE     EMPTY    HEART;     OR 

last.  The  poor,  dear  woman  flatters  herself  that  it  is  all 
her  work;  but  somebody  else  may  have  his  own  opinion, 
and"  I  certainly  have  mine.  I  have  had  to  caution  her  re- 
peatedly, to  prevent  her  from  showing  her  delight  too^ 
plainly  to  my  '  Goldfinch,'  as  Vic.  and  I  have  dubbed  him. 
Don't  be  in  a  hurry  with  your  congratulations,  ma  chere. 
'There's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip;'  and 
although  the  season  is  so  near  over,  I  may  yet  see  some 
one  whom  I  like  better  than  His  Highness.  Vie.  has  a 
beau,  too — a  rich  widower,  less  fascinating  than  my 
devoted ;  but  a  very  agreeable  man,  without  encumbrance, 
and  very  much  smitten.  So  we  pair  off  nicely  in  our  rides 
and  promenades,  and,  entre  nous,  are  quite  the  talk.  You 
are  a  good  little  thing  to  nurse  papa  so  sweetly— -a,  great 
deal  better  than  I  am.  I  told  my  knight  of  this  proof  of 
your  excellence  the  other  day,  and  he  said  that  it  was  only 
what  might  have  been  expected  from  my  sister  !  Don't  you 
feel  flattered  f  Poor  fellow!  Love  is  blind,  you  know. 

"  Love  to  papa.  I  am  sorry  he  has  been  so  unwell.  I  do 
not  imagine  that  I  shall  have  time  to  write  again  before  we 
leave  this  paradise.  We  will  telegraph  you  when  to  ex- 
pect us.  Perhaps  I  may  have  an  escort  home — some  one 
who  would  like  to  have  a  private  conference  with  my  re- 
spected father.  JVous  verrons  ! 

"  Lovingly,  LUCIE." 

Mr.  Hunt  twisted  himself  uneasily  in  his  arm-chair  as 
his  daughter,  by  his  desire,  reluctantly  read  aloud  the 
double  letter.  A  shade  of  dissatisfaction  and  shame  clouded 
his  countenance  when  she  finished,  and  he  sighed  heavily. 

"I  am  glad  they  are  still  enjoying  themselves,"  said 
Sarah,  forcing  a  smile.  "Lucy  has  secured  a  captive  too, 
it  appears — one  whom  she  is  likely  to  bring  home  at  her 
chariot  wheels." 


HUSKS.  85 

"  In  my  day  daughters  were  in  the  habit  of  consulting 
their  fathers  before  giving  decidtd  encouragement  to  any 
admirers,  strangers  especially,"  said  Mr.  Hunt,  with  dis- 
pleasure. "  In  these  times  there  are  no  parents !  There 
is  the  'old  man'  and  'the  Governor,'  who  makes  the 
money  his  children  honor  him  by  wasting,  and  the  '  poor, 
dear  woman,'  who  plays  propriety  in  the  belle's  flirtations, 
and  helps,  or  hinders,  in  snaring  some  booby  '  Goldfinch.' 
It  is  a  lying,  cheating,  hollow  world  !  I  have  been  sick  of 
it  for  twenty  years  !" 

"  Father  !  my  dear  father,"  exclaimed  Sarah,  kneeling  be- 
side him,  and  winding  her  arm  about  his  neck.  "  You  mis- 
judge your  children,  and  their  love  for  you  !" 

"  I  believe  in  you,  child  !  I  cannot  understand  how  you 
have  contrived  to  grow  up  so  unlike  your  sister  and  your — " 
The  recollection  of  the  respect  his  daughter  owed  her  moth- 
er, checked  the  word. 

"  You  do  not  deal  fairly  with  Lucy's  character,  father. 
She  has  one  of  the  kindest  hearts  and  most  amiable  disposi- 
tions in  the  world.  I  wish  I  had  caused  you  as  little  anxiety 
as  she  has.  Remember  her  obedience  and  my  wilfulness ; 
her  gentleness  and  my  obstinacy,  and  blush  at  your  verdict, 
Sir  Judge !" 

She  seated  herself  upon  his  foot-cushion  and  rested  her 
chin  upon  his  knee,  looking  archly  up  in  his  face.  She  waa 
surprised  and  troubled  at  this  degree  of  acrimony  in  one 
whose  habitual  manner  was  so  placid,  and  his  judgment  so 
mild ;  but,  for  his  sake,  she  was  resolute  not  to  show  her 
feeling.  He  laid  his  hand  caressingly  upon  her  shoulder, 
and  sank  into  a  revery,  profound,  and  seemingly  not 
pleasant. 

Sarah  took  advantage  of  his  abstraction  to  remove  the 
wrapper  of  a  newspaper  received  by  the  saiae  mail  that 
had  brought  her  letters.  The  operation  was  carefully  per- 


8G 


THE    E  M  P  T  Y    HEART;     OK, 


formed,  so  as  not  to  invite  notice,  and  the  envelope  laid  away 
in  her  work-box.  She  knew  well  who  had  traced  the  clear, 
bold  superscription,  and  what  initials  composed  the  mysteri- 
ous cipher  in  one  corner  of  the  cover ;  nor  was  this  the 
only  token  of  recollection  she  had  from  this  source.  The 
article  marked  in  the  number  of  the  literary  journal  he  had 
selected  as  the  medium  of  correspondence,  was  an  exquisite 
little  poem  from  an  author  whose  works  Philip  had  read  to 
her  in  the  vine-covered  porch  at  Shrewsbury.  Slowly, 
longingly  she  perused  it ;  gathering  sweetness  from  every 
word,  and  fancying  how  his  intonations  would  bring  out 
beauties  she  could  not  of  herself  discover.  Then  she  took 
out  the  wrapper  again,  and  studied  the  postmai-k.  On  the 
former  papers  he  had  sent  the  stamp  was  illegible,  but  this 
was  easily  deciphered — "  Albany." 

"  So  near !  He  is  returning  homewards  !"  was  the  glad 
reflection  that  flooded  her  face  with  joy. 

"  Sarah  !"  said  her  father,  abruptly.  "  Do  you  ever  think 
of  marriage  ?" 

"  Sir  ?"  stammered  the  girl,  confused  beyond  measure. 

"  I  mean,  have  you  imbibed  your  sister's  ideas  on  this 
subject  ?  the  notions  of  ninety-nine  hundredths  of  girls  in 
your  walk  of  life.  Do  you  intend  to  seek  a  husband,  boldly 
and  unblushingly,  in  all  public  places  ?  to  degrade  your- 
self by  practising  the  arts  they  understand  so  well  to 
catch  an  '  eligible'  partner,  who  may  repay  your  insincerity 
and  mercenary  views  by  insult  and  infidelity — -at  best  by  in- 
difference! Child!  you  do  not  know  the  risk  match-making 
mothers  and  husband-hunting  daughters  run  ;  the  terrible 
retribution  that  may  be — that  often  is  in  store  for  such !  1 
had  rather  see  you  and  your  sister  dead,  than  the  victims 
of  that  most  hateful  of  heartless  shows — a  fashionable  mar- 
riage !  Poor  Lucy !  poor  Lucy !" 

"  I  hope  you  are  distressing  yourself  without  reason,  sir. 


HUSKS.  87 

Mother  is  not  the  person  to  surrender  her  child  to  one  whose 
character  and  respectability  are  not  indisputable.  Nor  is 
Lucy  sentimental.  I  do  not  fear  her  suffering  very  acutely 
from  any  cause." 

"  I  grant  that.  You  would  be  more  to  be  pitied  as  an  un- 
loved or  unloving  wife,  than  she.  I  tremble  for  you  some- 
times, when  I  think  of  this  chance.  My  daughter,  when 
you  marry,  look  beyond  the  outside  show.  Seek  for  moral 
worth  and  a  true  heart,  instead  of  dollars  and  cents !" 

"  I  will !  I  promise !"  said  Sarah,  her  amazement  at  his 
earnestness  and  choice  of  topics  combining  to  shake  her 
voice  and  constrain  her  smile.  "  But  there  is  time  enough 
for  that,  father  dear.  When  the  man  of  heart  and  worth 
sues  for  my  poor  hand,  I  will  refer  him  to  you,  and  abide 
entirely  by  your  decision." 

"  Mr.  Hammond  is  down-stairs,"  said  the  servant  at  the 
door.  And  Sarah,  gathering  up  her  papers,  escaped  from 
the  room  before  he  entered. 


88  THE    EMPTY    HEARTJ    OB, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MR.  HUNT  was  able  to  resume  his  place  in  the  bank  sev  eral 
days  before  his  wife  returned.  Uncle  Nathan  had  brought 
Jeannie  home  as  soon  as  her  father  could  leave  his  room, 
and  the  boys  had  likewise  been  written  for ;  so  that  the  fam- 
ily reunion  was  apparently  near  at  hand. 

Weak  as  he  was,  Mr.  Hunt  met  his  spouse  and  daughter 
at  the  depot,  and  the  noise  of  their  entrance  in  the  lower 
hall  first  apprised  Sarah  of  their  arrival.  To  the  bound  of 
pleasurable  excitement  her  heart  gave  at  the  certainty  that 
they  had  come,  succeeded  a  sigh  at  the  termination  of  the 
free,  yet  busy  life  she  had  led  of  late — the  probability  that 
she  would  be  compelled  to  resume  her  old  habits  of  feeling 
and  action.  Driving  back  the  selfish  regret,  she  ran  down 
to  welcome  the  travellers. 

"  How  well  you're  looking,  Sarah !"  said  Mrs.  Hunt,  after 
kissing  her.  "  I  declare,  if  you  was  to  arrange  your  hair 
different,  and  study  dress  a  bit,  you  would  come  near  being 
right  down  handsome." 

" '  Handsome  is  as  handsome  does  !' "  quoted  Mr.  Hunt, 
stoutly.  "  According  to  that  rule,  she  is  a  beauty." 

"Thank  you,  sir!"  said  Sarah,  bowing  low.  And  she 
ried  to  forget,  in  her  sister's  affectionate  greeting,  the  chill 
and  heart-sickness  produced  by  her  mother's  business-like 
manner  and  compliment. 

"  Having  disposed  of  one  daughter,  she  means  to  work 
the  other  into  merchantable  shape!"  was  her  cynical  deduc- 
tion from  the  dubious  praise  bestowed  upon  herself. 


HUSKS.  89 

Mrs.  Hunt  pursued  her  way  up  the  steps,  examining  and 
remarking  upon  every  thing  she  saw. 

"  Them  stair-rods  ain't  so  clean  as  they  had  ought  to  be, 
Sarah.  I'm  afraid  your  girls  are  careless,  or  shirks.  When 
did  you  uncover  the  carpet  ?" 

"  Some  time  ago,  mother,  while  father  was  sick.  There 
were  gentlemen  calling  constantly,  and  the  cover  looked 
shabby,  I  thought." 

"It  couldn't  be  helped,  I  s'pose ;  but  the  carpet  is  moie 
worn  than  I  expected  to  see  it.  With  the  heavy  expenses 
that  will  be  crowding  on  us  this  fall  and  winter,  we  can't 
afford  to  get  any  new  things  for  the  house." 

Lucy,  who  preceded  her  sister,  glanced  back  and  laughed 
meaningly.  And  Sarah  was  very  glad  that  her  father  had 
not  overheard  the  observation,  which  confirmed  her  belief 
that  the  beauty's  hand  was  disposed  of  without  the  form  of 
consultation  with  her  natural  and  legal  guardian. 

Dinner  was  announced  by  the  time  the  travelling  habili- 
ments and  dust  were  removed.  Sarah  had  spared  no  pains 
to  provide  a  bountiful  and  tasteful  repast,  at  the  risk  of  in- 
curring her  mother's  reproof  for  her  extravagant  proclivities. 
But  the  dame  was  in  high  good-humor,  and  the  youthful 
purveyor  received  but  a  single  sentence  of  deprecation. 

"  I  hope  you  have  not  been  living  as  high  as  this  all  thj 
time,  Sarah !" 

"  No,  madam.  Father's  wants  and  mine  were  very  few. 
I  foresaw  that  you  would  need  substantial  refreshment  after 
your  journey." 

"  You  was  very  thoughtful.  We  both  have  good  appe- 
tites, I  guess.  I  know  that  I  have." 

"  Mine  will  speak  for  itself,"  said  Lucy. 

"  You  have  no  idea  how  thaat  girl  has  enjoyed  every  thing 
since  she  has  been  away,"  observed  Mrs.  Hunt  to  her  hus- 
band. "  There  was  Vic.  West,  who  took  it  into  her  head 


90  THEE  MPT  Y     HEART;    OK, 

that  she  ought  to  look  die-away  and  peaking,  and  refuse  food, 
when  her  beau  was  by ;  but  Lu.,  she  just  went  right  along 
and  behaved  natural,  and  I'm  sure  that  somebody  thought 
more  of  her  for  it." 

Mr.  Hunt's  face  darkened  for  a  moment ;  but  he  couh 
not  find  fault  with  his  eldest  child  on  her  first  evening  a 
home. 

"  So  you  have  been  quite  a  belle,  Lucy,"  he  said,  pleas- 
antly. 

"Better  than  that,  Mr.  H. !"  Mrs.  Hunt  checked  her 
triumphant  announcement  as  the  butler  re-entered  the  room. 
"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  she  resumed,  mysteriously,  "if  Lucy 
was  disposed  to  settle  down  into  a  steady,  sedate  matron 
after  her  holiday." 

"  Don't  you  deceive  yourself  with  that  hope !"  laughed 
Lucy. 

She  was  evidently  pleased  by  these  not  over-delicate  allu- 
sions to  her  love-affairs,  and,  like  her  mother,  extremely 
complacent  over  the  result  of  her  recent  campaign.  Sarah 
felt  that,  were  she  in  her  place,  she  would  shrink  from  this 
open  jesting  upon  a  sacred  subject ;  still,  she  had  not  ex- 
pected that  her  sister  would  behave  differently.  Lucy's  na- 
ture was  gentle  without  being  fine  ;  affectionate,  but  shallow. 
She  would  have  had  no  difficulty  in  attaching  herself  to  any 
man  whom  her  friends  recommended  as  "  a  good  match," 
provided  he  were  pleasing  in  exterior,  and  her  most  devoted 
servitor. 

The  sisters  had  no  opportunity  of  private  converse  until 
they  adjourned  to  the  parlor  for  the  evening.  Lucy  was 
very  beautiful  in  a  blue  silk,  whose  low  corsage  and  short 
gleeves  revealed  her  superb  shoulders  and  rounded  arms. 
Her  complexion  was  a  rich  carmine,  deepening  or  softening 
with  every  motion — one  would  have  said,  with  every  breath. 
Her  blue  eyes  fairly  danced  in  a  sort  of  subdued  glee,  very 


H  TJ  S  K  8 .  91 

charming  and  very  becoming,  but  altogether  unlike  the  ten 
der,  dewy  light  of  "  Love's  first  young  dream." 

"  How  lovely  you  have  grown,  sister  !"  said  Sarah,  ear 
nestly.  "  Oh,  Lucy,  I  don't  believe  you  rightly  value  the 
gift  of  beauty — as  I  would  do,  if  it  were  mine !" 

"  Nonsense  !"  The  dimples,  that  made  her  smile  so  be- 
witching, broke  her  blushes  into  rosy  waves,  as  the  conscious 
fair  one  turned  her  face  towards  the  mirror.  "  I  am  pleased 
So  hear  that  I  am  passable  to-night.  We  may  have  visitors. 
A  friend  of  ours  has  expressed  a  great  desire  to  see  me  in 
nay  home — '  in  the  bosom  of  my  family.'  Ahem  !" 

She  smoothed  out  an  imaginary  wrinkle  in  her  bodice,  an 
>.xcuse  for  tarrying  longer  before  the  glass. 

"  He  came  to  town  with  you,  then  ?"  ventured  Sarah. 

Lucy  nodded. 

"  And  promised  to  call  this  evening  ?" 

'*  Right  again,  my  dear !" 

She  was  graver  now,  for  she  had  conceived  the  happy  no- 
tion of  appropriating  to  her  own  use  a  cluster  of  white  roses 
and  buds  she  discovered  in  the  vase  on  the  marble  slab  under 
the  mirror.  If  any  thing  could  have  enhanced  the  elegance 
of  her  figure  and  toilet,  it  was  the  coiffure  she  immediately 
set  about  arranging.  Tho  flowers  were  a  present  to  Sarah 
from  Lewis  Hammond ;  but  sho  thought  little  of  him  or  of 
them,  as  Lucy  laid  them  first  on  one,  then  the  other  side  of 
her  head,  to  try  the  effect. 

"  And  you  really  care  for  him,  tister  ?"  came  forth  in  such 
a  timid,  anxious  tone,  that  Lucy  bavst  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"  Yoa  dear  little  modest  piece  of  romantic  simplicity ! 
One  would  suppose  that  you  were  popping  the  question 
yourself,  from  your  behavior.  Care  for  him  ?  Why 
shouldn't  I  ?  I  need  not  say  '  yes'  unless  I  do,  need  1  ?" 

"  But  you  take  it  so  coolly !  A  betrothal  is,  to  sxx,  Jach 
a  solemn  thins." 


92  THE  EMPTY   HEART;    OR, 

"  And  to  most  other  girls,  perhaps,  (There !  if  I  only  had 
a  hair-pin.  Don't  rob  yourself!  thank  you !  Isn't  that  an 
improvement  ?)  As  I  was  saying,  why  should  I  pretend  to 
be  pensive  and  doleful,  when  I  am  as  merry  as  a  lark  ?  or 
lovesick,  when  I  have  never  lost  a  meal  or  an  hour's  sleep 
from  the  commencement  of  the  courtship  until  now  ?  That 
is  not  my  style,  Sarah.  I  am  very  practical  in  my  views 
and  feelings.  Not  that  I  don't  play  talking  sentiment  in 
our  genuine  love-scenes,  and  I  really  like  unbounded  devo- 
tion on  the  other  side.  It  is  decidedly  pleasant  to  be  adored 
I  was  surprised  to  find  how  I  enjoyed  it." 

"  Oh,  sister !  sister !"  Sarah  leaned  her  forehead  on  the 
mantel,  repelled  and  well-nigh  disgusted  by  this  heartless  tri- 
fling— this  avowed  counterfeit — so  abhorrent  to  her  feelings. 
But  Lucy  was  as  much  in  earnest  as  she  could  be  on  such  a 
theme.  She  went  on,  unheeding  her  sister's  ejaculation. 

"  You  must  understand,  of  course,  that  we  are  not  posi- 
tively engaged.  I  gave  him — Goldfinch — a  good  scolding 
for  violating  the  rules  of  etiquette  by  addressing  me  while  I 
was  away  from  home  ;  but  it  was  just  like  him.  He  is  as 
impulsive  as  he  can  live.  To  punish  him  I  refused  to  answer 
him  until  after  our  return  to  New  York,  and  his  interview 
with  father.  He  would  have  written  to  him  on  the  spot, 
had  I  not  forbidden  him.  He  behaved  so  beautifully,  that 
I  consented  to  his  taking  charge  of  us  to  the  city,  and  I  sup- 
pose the  rest  must  follow  in  good  time.  How  melancholy 
your  face  is !  Are  you  very  much  afilicted  at  the  thought 
of  losing  me  ?  "Why,  Sarah  !  my  dear  child,  are  those  tears 
in  your  eyes  ?  If  she  isn't  crying  in  good  earnest !" 

And  Lucy's  musical  laugh  rolled  through  the  rooms  in 
her  enjoyment  of  the  joke.  What  else  could  it  be  to  her,  elate 
with  her  success  in  achieving  the  chief  end  of  woman — the 
capture  of  a  rich  and  handsome,  in  every  respect  an  unex 
ceptionable  lover  ? 


HUSKS.  93 

"  Hist !"  she  said,  raising  her  finger.  "  He  has  come  ! 
Your  eyes  are  red  !  Run,  and  make  yourself  presentable !" 

The  door,  opening  from  the  hall  into  the  front  parlor, 
swung  on  its  hinges  as  Sarah  gained  the  comparative  ob- 
scurity of  the  third  and  rear  room.  A  strong  impulse  of  in- 
terest or  curiosity  there  arrested  her  flight  to  enable  her  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  her  destined  brother-in-law.  Lucy  had  not 
mentioned  his  proper  name,  since  her  earliest  letter  from 
Newport  had  eulogized  a  certain  George  Finch,  a  Bostonian, 
wealthy,  and  attentive  to  herself.  Sarah's  backward  glance 
fell  upon  the  visitor  as  he  met  his  queenly  bride  elect 
directly  under  the  blazing  chandelier. 

It  was  Philip  Benson! 

Chained  to  the  spot  by  weakness  or  horror,  the  looker-on 
stood  motionless,  while  the  suitor  raised  the  lily  fingers  he 
held  to  his  lips,  and  then  led  Lucy  to  a  seat.  His  voice 
broke  the  spell.  As  the  familiar  cadences  smote  her  ear, 
the  sharp  pain  that  ran  through  every  fibre  of  her  frame 
awakened  Sarah  from  her  stupor. 

How  she  gained  her  room  she  never  knew ;  but  she  had 
sense  enough  left  to  direct  her  flight  to  this  refuge — and, 
when  within,  to  lock  the  door.  Then  she  threw  up  her 
arms  with  a  piteous,  wailing  cry,  and  fell  across  the  bed, 
dead  for  the  time  to  further  woe. 

Alone  and  painfully  she  struggled  back  to  consciousness. 
Sitting  upright,  she  stared  wonderingly  around  her,  unable 
to  recollect  what  had  stricken  her  down.  The  chamber  Avas 
imperfectly  lighted  by  the  rays  of  the  street  lamp  opposite, 
and  with  the  recognition  of  objects  within  its  narrow  limits 
there  crept  back  to  her  all  that  had  preceded  her  retreat 
thither.  For  the  next  hour  she  sat  still—  her  head  bowed 
upon  her  knees,  amid  the  wrecks  of  her  dream  world. 

Dreary  and  loveless  as  had  been  most  of  her  previous 
.ife,  she  had  never  endured  any  thing  like  this,  unless  one 


94  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OB, 

miserable  hour  \ipon  the  Deal  Beach,  when  Philip  broke 
the  tidings  of  his  intended  departure,  were  a  slight  foretaste 
of  the  agony,  the  utter  despair,  that  claimed  her  now  for  its 
victim.  Since  then,  she  had  been  hopeful.  His  promise  of 
a  visit,  the  tokens  of  remembrance  he  had  transmitted  to 
her  every  week,  had  kept  alive  memory  and  expectationr 
and  this  was  his  coming  !  this  the  occasion  she  had  pictured 
so  fondly,  painted  with  the  brightest  hues  Love  could 
borrow  from  imagination !  She  had  heard  again  the  voice 
that  had  haunted  her  dreams,  from  their  parting  until  now 
— heard  it  in  deeper,  softer  tones  than  it  had  ever  taken  in 
speech  with  her ;  heart-music  which  told  that  his  seekings 
and  yearnings  for  the  one  and  only  beloved  were  over.  And 
was  not  her  quest  of  years  ended  likewise  ?  Truly,  there 
are  two  senses  in  which  every  search,  every  combat  may  be 
said  to  be  closed  ;  one  when  the  victor  grasps  his  prize,  or 
waves  aloft  his  sword  in  the  moment  of  triumph  ;  the  other, 
when,  bleeding,  maimed,  or  dying,  the  vanquished  sinks  to 
the  earth  without  power  to  rise  ! 

A  tap  at  her  door  started  Sarah.  She  did  not  stir  until 
it  was  repeated,  and  her  father  called  her  name.  A  stream 
of  light  from  the  hall  fell  upon  her  face  as  she  admitted 
him. 

"  Daughter,  what  ails  you  ?"  was  his  exclamation. 

"  I  am  not  very  well,  father." 

"I  should  think  not,  indeed!  Come  in  here  and  lie 
down !"  He  led  her  to  the  bed,  arid,  lighting  the  gas  in 
the  chamber,  came  back  to  her  and  felt  her  pulse. 

She  knew  what  was  the  direction  of  his  fears  ;  but  to 
correct  his  misapprehension  was  to  subject  herself  to  further 
questioning.  Passively  she  received  the  pressure  of  his 
hand  upon  her  head,  the  gentle  stroking  of  the  disordered 
hair ;  but,  when  he  stooped  to  kiss  her,  he  felt  that  she 
trembled. 


HTJBKS.  95 

"  Dear  child !  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  if  you  have 
taken  the  fever  from  me  !" 

"  I  do  not  fear  that,  father.  My  head  aches,  and  I  am 
very  tired.  I  have  been  so  busy  all  day,  you  know." 

"Yes,  and  for  many  other  days.  You  are,  without 
djubt,  overworked.  I  hope  this  may  prove  to  be  all  the 
matter  with  you.  A  night's  rest  may  quite  cure  you." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  answered,  chokingly.  "  You  will  excuse 
me  to ,  down-stairs  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Would  you  like  to  have  your  mother  come 
up  to  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sir !  Please  tell  her  there  is  no  need  of  it.-  I 
shall  be  better  to-morrow." 

"  Your  sister" — and  he  looked  more  serious,  instead  of 
smiling — "  has  a  visitor.  Her  friend  is  an  acquaintance 
of  yours,  also,  it  appears — the  Mr.  Benson  whom  you  met 
at  your  aunt's  in  July." 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  know  it." 

"  I  understood  you  to  say  that  Lucy  had  never  said 
positively  who  her  lover  was ;  but  this  was  not  the  name 
you  told  me  of,  as  the  person  whom  you  imagined  him  to 
be." 

"  I  was  misled  for  a  time  myself,  sir,"  replied  the  pbor 
girl,  pressing  her  temples  between  her  palms. 

"  I  see  that  I  am  tiring  you.  Forgive  me !  but  it  is  so 
natural  to  consult  you  in  every  thing.  I  must  trouble  you 
with  some  questions,  which  it  is  important  should  be  an- 
swered to-night,  before  this  gentleman  and  myself  have  any 
conversation.  Is  Mr.  Benson  a  man  whom  you  consider 
worthy  of  trust?  Yuur  mother  represents  him  to  be  enor 
niously  wealthy — a  reputation  I  had  concluded  he  possessed, 
from  Lucy's  pet  name  for  him.  It  is  well  that  your  sister 
has  a  prospect  of  marrying  advantageously  in  this  respect, 
for  she  would  never  be  happy  in  an  humble  sphere;  but 


96  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OK, 

antiquated  people  like  myself  regard  other  things  as  of 
greater  consequence  in  concluding  a  bargain  for  a  lifetime. 
Is  your  opinion  of  Mr.  Benson  favorable  as  to  disposition, 
principles,  and  conduct?" 

Sarah's  head  rested  on  the  foot-board  of  her  couch,  in 
weariness  or  pain,  as  she  rejoined  :  "  I  saw  and  heard  noth- 
ing of  him,  during  our  intercourse  in  the  country,  that  was 
not  creditable.  His  uncle  and  aunt  are  very  partial  to  him, 
and  speak  of  his  character  in  high  terms.  Their  testimony 
ought  to  have  weight  with  you,  for  they  have  known  him 
from  his  boyhood  up." 

"  It  ought  and  does  !  I  am  relieved  to  hear  all  this  I 
very  much  pleased !"  said  Mr.  Hunt",  emphatically.  "  I  have 
all  confidence  in  Nathan  Benson's  judgment  and  integrity. 
I  hope  his  nephew  is  as  sterling  a  man.  Thus  far,"  he  con- 
tinued, playfully,  "  I  have  learned  but  one  thing  to  his  dis- 
credit, and  that  is,  that  having  seen  this  one  of  my  daughters, 
he  could  afterwards  fall  in  love  with  the  other." 

"  I  am  not  beautiful  and  good  like  Lucy,  father." 

"Very  dear  and  lovely  in  my  eyes,  my  child!  Again 
forgive  me  for  having  worried  your  poor  head  with  my 
inquiries.  I  was  unwilling  to  decide  a  matter  where  Lucy's 
happiness  was  involved,  without  obtaining  your  evidence 
in  the  case.  A  last  good-night!  and  God  bless  you,  my 
dearest,  best  daughter !" 

Sarah  held  up  her  face  for  his  kiss  without  attempting  to 
speak.  This  burning  ordeal,  the  harder  to  endure  because 
unexpected,  was  over.  She  was  as  weak  as  a  child  with 
conflicting  passions  when  she  arose  and  endeavored  to 
undress.  After  stopping  several  times  to  regain  breath  and 
strength,  she  was  at  last  ready  to  creep  into  bed,  there  to 
lie  until  morning  broke,  sleepless  and  suffering. 

Her  sharpened  senses  could  discern  her  father  arid 
mother's  voices  in  the  sitting-room,  in  confidential  talk — in 


HUSKS.  97 

terrupted,  by  and  by,  by  Lucy's  pure  mellow  tones,  appar- 
ently conveying  some  message  to  the  former.  Its  import 
was  easily  surmised,  for  his  step  was  then  heard  in  the  hall 
and  on  the  stairs,  until  he  reached  the  parlor  where  Philip 
awaited  him.  Their  conference  did  not  occupy  more  than 
twenty  minutes,  which  time  Lucy  spent  with  her  mother — 
how  gayly,  Sarah  could  judge  by  the  laugh  that,  again  and 
again,  reached  her  room.  Mr.  Hunt  returned,  spoke  a  few 
sentences  in  his  calm,  grave  way,  and  the  closing  door  was 
followed  by  a  flutter  of  silk  and  fall  of  gliding  footsteps,  as 
Lucy  went  down  to  her  now  formally  and  fully  betrothed 
husband. 

"  Husband !"  Yes  !  it  was  even  so !  Henceforth  the 
lives  of  the  pair  were  to  be  as  one  in  interest,  in  aims,  in 
affection.  Erelong,  they  would  have  no  separate  outward 
existence  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Was  his  chosen  love, 
then,  in  a  truer  and  higher  sense,  his  other  self- — the  being 
sought  so  long  and  carefully?  The  pretty  fiancee  would 
have  stretched  her  cerulean  orbs  in  amazed  wonder  at  the 
ridiculous  doubt,  and  asked,  in  her  matter-of-fact  way,  how 
the  thing  could  have  happened,  if  it  had  not  been  intended  ? 
Philip's  indignant  affirmative  would  have  gained  fervor  from 
his  exultant  consciousness  of  possession — so  novel  and 
sweet.  But  one  above  stairs,  taught  sagacity  by  the 
depth  of  her  grief,  looked  further  into  the  future  than  did 
they,  and  read  there  a  different  reply. 

She  heard  the  clang  of  the  front  door  as  it  shut  after  th 
young  lover,  arid,  in  the  still  midnight,  the  echoes,  faint  and 
fainter,  of  his  retreating  footsteps — the  same  free,  light 
tread  she  used  to  hearken  for  in  porch  and  hall  of  that  river- 
side farm-house ;  and  as  the  remembrance  came  over  her 
she  turned  her  face  to  the  wall,  murmuring  passionately, 
"  Oh  !  if  I  could  never,  never  see  him  again !" 

This  feeling,  whether  born  of  cowardice  or  desperation, 
5 


THE    EMPTY   HEART;     OB, 

was  the  ruling  one,  when  her  mother  looked  in  upon  her 
before  breakfast,  and  expressed  her  concern  at  finding  her 
still  in  bed. 

"  I  am  not  well  enough  to  get  up,  mother !"  Sarah  said 
sincerely,  and  Mrs.  Hunt,  reading  in  the  parched  lips  and 
blood-shot  eyes  proof  of  the  justice  of  the  fears  her  husband 
had  expressed  to  her  the  preceding  evening,  resolved  that 
the  doctor  should  see  her  "before  she  was  two  hours 
older." 

In  vain  Sarah  entreated  that  this  should  not  be  done,  and 
prophesied  her  recovery  without  his  assistance.  For  once 
her  parents  were  a  unit  in  sentiment  and  action,  and  the 
physician  was  summoned  to  his  second  patient. 

"  All  febrile  symptoms  were  to  some  extent  contagious," 
he  affirmed  ;  "  and  while  Mr.  Hunt's  malady  was  not  gener- 
ally classed  with  such,  it  was  very  possible  that  his  daugh- 
ter had  contracted  an  analogous  affection,  in  her  constant 
attendance  upon  him." 

This  decision  Sarah  dared  not  overthrow,  much  as  she 
wished  to  do  so,  when  she  saw  how  it  afflicted  her  father. 

Undaunted  by  any  fears  of  infection,  Lucy  repaired  t<? 
her  sister's  chamber  when  she  had  despatched .  her  break 
fast. 

"Isn't  it  too  provoking  that  you  should  be  sick  just  at 
this  time  ?"  she  began,  perching  herself,  school-girl  fashion, 
on  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "  I  really  admired  your  staying  up 
Btairs  last  night ;  but  1  did  not  dream  that  you  really  were 
not  well.  I  promise  you  that  I  made  capital  of  your  ab- 
sence. I  told  Philip  (how  odd  it  sounds,  doesn't  it  ?)  that 
you  ran  away  when  he  rang  the  bell,  because  you  had  made 
a  fright  of  yourself  by  crying  over  the  prospect  of  my  leav- 
ing you,  and  that  I  had  no  doubt  that  you  had  grieved 
yourself  into  a  headache.  He  wanted  to  know  forthwith  if 
you  objected  to  my  marrying  him;  but  I  said  'No;'  that 


HUSKS.  99 

you  were  charmed  with  the  match,  and  preferred  him  to  any 
other  admirer  I  had  ever  had ;  bub  that  we — you  and  I — 
were  so  devoted  to  one  another,  that  it  was  acute  agony  to 
us  to  think  of  parting.  About  ten  o'clock  he  asked  to  see 
father,  and  they  soon  settled  affairs.  When  I  went  down 
again,  he  tried  a  little  ring  on  my  finger  that  he  always 
wears,  and  it  fitted  nicely.  So  I  knew  what  it  meant  when 
he  put  it  back  upon  his  own  hand,  and  that  with  that  for  a 
measure  he  could  not  go  wrong  in  getting  the  engagement- 
ring.  I  do  hope  it  will  be  a  diamond.  Vic.  West  declares 
that  she  would  not  accept  any  thing  else.  I  considered  for 
a  while  whether  I  couldn't  give  him  a  delicate  hint  on  the 
subject,  but  I  did  not  see  how  I  could  manage  it.  And 
don't  you  think,  while  I  was  studying  about  this,  lie  fancied 
I  was  sober  over  '  the  irrevocable  step  I  had  taken,'  and  be- 
came  miserable  and  eloquent  at  the  suspicion !  I  wish  I 
could  remember  all  he  said  !  It  was  more  in  your  line  than 
mine !  But  he  is  a  good,  sensible  fellow,  with  all  his  romantic 
notions.  He  has  a  handsome  fortune,  independent  of  hia 
father,  left  him  by  his  grandfather,  and  we  are  to  live  in 
Georgia  part  of  the  year  only,  and  travel  every  summer. 
Mother  says  his  account  of  his  prospects  and  so  forth  to 
father  was  very  satisfactory,  but  she  has  not  got  at  all  the  par- 
ticulars yet.  Father  is  so  worried  about  your  sickness  that 
he  cannot  spare  a  thought  for  any  thing  or  anybody  ebe. 
The  light  from  that  window  hurts  your  eyes — doesn't  it  ?  I 
will  let  down  the  shade." 

But  Sarah  lay  with  her  hand  protecting  her  eyes,  Vrhen 
her  sister  resumed  her  position  and  narration. 

"  We  are  to  be  married  in  December.  He  begged  hard 
for  an  earlier  day,  but  I  was  sure  that  I  could  not  be  ready 
before  then.  As  it  is,  we  shall  have  to  hurry  when  it  comes 
to  the  dresses,  for,  in  order  to  get  the  latest  fashions,  we 
must  wait  until  the  eleventh  hour.  Won't  I '  astonish  the 


100  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OK, 

natives'  down  South  ?  I  couldn't  state  this  to  Philip,  you 
know ;  so  I  referred  him  to  mother,  who  is  to  say,  when  he 
asks  her,  that  her  preference  would  be  to  keep  me  just  as 
long  as  she  possibly  can.  Mitre  nous,  my  dear,  our  good 
mamma  has  said  truer  things  than  this  bit  of  sentiment— 
but  n'importe  I  These  embellishments  are  necessary  to  such 
transactions." 

Miss  West's  friendship  or  curiosity  could  not  endure  lon- 
ger suspense,  and  the  intelligence  that  she  was  below 
checked  the  monologue. 

"  I  will  run  up  again  whenever  I  can,"  promised  Lucy, 
by  way  of  compensation  for  her  abrupt  departure,  "  and 
keep  up  your  spirits  by  telling  you  all  that  I  can  about  our 
concerns.  But  Philip  is  to  take  me  to  ride  this  afternoon. 
I  forbade  him  to  come  here  before  then,  but  I  don't  much 
think  that  he  can  stay  away.  Don't  be  vexed  if  you  don't 
gee  me  again  in  some  hours.  Vic.  and  I  are  about  to  settle 
our  trousseaux.  If  you  believe  me,  we  have  never  been 
able  yet  to  decide  upon  the  wedding-dresses  !" 

And  she  vanished,  warbling  delicious  roulades  from  a 
duet  she  had  engaged  to  sing  that  evening  with  her  betroth- 
ed. She  showed  herself  up-stairs  again,  when  she  was  rea- 
dy for  her  ride  and  the  carriage  at  the  door — very  fair,  very 
bright,  and  very  happy.  She  was  exquisitely  dressed,  and 
called  on  her  sister  to  admire  her  toilet  and  envy  her  her 
escort. 

Sarah  listened  to  the  cheerful  exchange  of  cautions  and 
promises  between  her  mother  and  Philip,  at  the  door  beneath 
her  open  window,  and  to  the  rolling  wheels  that  bore  them 
away. 

Mrs.  Hunt  received  none  of  her  friends  that  day,  being 
busy  "  getting  things  to  i-ights  ;"  and  for  a  like  reason  she 
absented  herself  from  her  child's  sick-room,  content  with 
sending  uj;  Jeannie,  now  and  then,  to  inquire  how  she  was 


HUSKS.  101 

getting  on.  In  the  abject  loneliness  that  oppressed  her 
when  the  first  violence  of  passions  had  spent  itself,  Sarah 
would  have  been  relieved  in  some  measure  by  the  society  of 
this  pet  sister,  the  sole  object  upon  earth,  besides  her  father, 
that  had  ever  repaid  her  love  with  any  thing  like  equal  at 
tachment.  But  the  child  shrank,  like  most  others  of  her 
age,  from  the  quiet  dark  chamber  of  illness,  and  longed  to 
follow  her  mother  through  the  house,  in  her  tour  of  obser- 
vation and  renovation.  Sarah  detected  her  restlessness  and 
ill-concealed  dislike  of  the  confinement  imposed  upon  her 
by  compliance  with  her  humble  petition, — 

"  Please,  Jeannie,  stay  a  little  while  with  your  poor  sis- 
ter !"  And  her  sensitive  spirit  turned  upon  itself,  as  a  final 
stroke  of  torture,  the  conviction  that  here,  also,  love  and 
care  had  been  wasted. 

"  Go,  then !"  she  said,  rather  roughly,  as  Jeannie  wavered, 
"  and  you  need  not  come  up  again  to-day.  I  know  it  is  not 
pleasant  for  you  to  be  here.  Tell  mother  I  want  nothing 
but  quiet." 

"  I  have  had  a  splendid  drive !"  said  Lucy,  rustling  her 
many  flounces  into  the  door  at  dusk* 

The  figure  upon  the  bed  made  no  response  by  motion  or 
word. 

"I  do  believe  she  is  asleep  !"  added  the  intruder,  lowering 
her  voice.  "  I  suppose  she  is  tired  and  needs  rest."  And  she 
went  out  on  tiptoe. 

Sarah  was  awake  a  minute  later,  when  her  father  came 
in  to  see  her.  She  smiled  at  him,  as  he  "  hoped  sho  was 
-  better,"  and  asked  whether  she  might  not  get  up  on  the 
morrow.  Mr.  Hunt  thought  not.  The  doctor's  opinion 
was  that  perfect  repose  might  ward  off  the  worse  features 
of  the  disease.  She  had  better  keep  her  bed  for  a  couple 
of  days  yet,  even  should  she  feel  well  enough  to  be  about, 
He  sent  up  her  dinner  to  her  room  with  his  own  hands ;  and 


102  THE    EMPTY    HEAET;     OR, 

when  she  learned  this,  she  strove  to  do  some  feeble  justice 
to  the  viands,  but  without  success. 

Philip  dined  with  the  family  that  day  by  special  appoint- 
ment ;  and,  shortly  after  his  arrival,  Lucy  again  presented 
herself  in  that  small  third-story  bedroom. 

"  Choose !  which  hand  will  you  take  ?"  she  cried,  hiding 
both  behind  her. 

Sarah  would  make  no  selection ;  and,  after  a  little  more 
trifling,  the  alder  sister  brought  into  sight  two  elegant  bou- 
quets, and  laid  them  beside  the  invalid. 

"  This  is  Philip's  present — '  a  fraternal  remembrance,'  he 
told  me  to  say.  Here  is  his  card.  Doesn't  he  write  a  love- 
ly hand  ?  The  other  is  from  your  admirer,  Mr.  Hammond. 
What  a  sly  puss  you  were  to  make  such  a  catch  as  he  is, 
without  dropping  us  a  hint !  He  is  rather  too  sober  for  my 
notions;  but  he  is  getting  rich  fast,  they  say.  He  left  those 
flowers  at  the  door  himself,  and  insisted  upon  seeing  father 
for  a  moment,  to  know  exactly  how  you  were.  Cannot  you 
hurry  up  somewhat,  and  let  us  have  a  double  wedding  ?  I 
showed  the  bouquet  to  Philip,  and  told  him  of  your  con- 
quest, and  he  was  as  much  pleased  at  your  prospects  as  I 
was.  Did  you  ever  see  such  magnificent  roses  ?  your  beau 
paid  five  dollars,  at  the  lowest  computation,  for  these  flowers. 
I  congratulate  you  upon  these  signs  of  liberality !" 

Sarah  had  heard  only  a  portion  of  this  speech.  Her  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  card  her  sister  had  put  into  her  hand : 
"  Will  Miss  Sarah  accept  this  trifling  token  of  regard  from 
one  who  is  her  stanch  friend,  and  hopes,  in  time,  to  have  a 
nearer  claim  upon  her  esteem  ?" 

"  Very  neatly  turned,  is  it  -not  ?"  said  Lucy,  satisfiedly. 
She  had  read  it  on  her  way  up-stairs.  "  What  shall  I  say  to 
him  from  you  ?" 

"  Thank  him,  and  explain  that  I  am  not  able  to  write  a 
reply." 


HUSKS.  103 

This  meagre  return  of  compliments  assumed  a  tone  both 
grateful  and  sisterly  as  Lucy  rehearsed  it  to  the  donor  ol 
the  fragrant  offering.  The  barest  phrase  of  civility  came 
gracefully  and  meaningly  from  her  tongue.  Serene  in  mind 
and  countenance,  she  seated  herself  at  the  piano,  and,  as 
Philip  took  his  stand  at  her  side,  he  wondered  if  the  world 
held  another  couple  more  entirely  adapted  each  to  the  pe- 
culiar soul-needs  of  the  other,  more  perfectly  happy  in  the 
knowledge  of  mutual  affection.  Like  the  generality  of  the- 
orists, your  student  of  human  nature  is  prone  to  grievous 
error  when  he  reduces  his  flawless  system  to  practice. 

In  one  respect,  the  two  certainly  harmonized  well.  Both 
loved  music;  both  sang  finely,  and  their  voices  accorded 
without  a  jarring  note. 

Mr.  Hunt  read  the  evening  papers  in  Sarah's  room ;  turn 
ing  and  folding  them  with  great  circumspection,  lest  their 
rattling  might  annoy  hei',  and  detract  from  her  enjoyment 
of  the  music.  How  could  he  guess  the  infatuation  that 
caused  her  to  listen  greedily  to  sounds,  under  whose  potent 
spell  feeling  was  writhing  and  brain  reeling?  In  every 
pause  between  the  songs  there  arose  hi  her  memory  two 
lines  of  a. poem  read  long  ago,  when  or  where  she  knew 
not: — 

"  Seek  not  to  soothe  that  proud,  forsaken  heart 
"With  strains  whose  sweetness  maddens  as  they  fall!" 

The  performers  had  just  completed  a  duet,  in  which  each 
voice  supported  arid  developed,  while  blending  with  the 
other,  when  Lucy  took  up  the  prelude  to  a  simpler  lay  ;  re- 
peating it  twice  over  with  skilful  variations,  as  if  she  were, 
meantime,  carrying  on  a  colloquy  with  her  companion,  that 
delayed  the  vocal  part.  This  was  ended  by  Philip's  raising 
alone  the  burden  of  the  plaintive  German  air  Sarah  remem- 
bered so  truly — "  The  long,  long,  weary  day." 


104,  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OR, 

As  his  voice,  full  and  strong,  with  its  indescribable  ami 
irresistible  under-current  of  pathos — flowing  out  here  into 
passionate  melancholy — swelled  and  floated  through  tho 
quiet  house,  Sarah  sat  upright. 

"Father!  father!"  she  whispered,  huskily,  "I  cannot 
bear  that!  Shut  the  doors! — all  of  them,  or  I  shall  go 
mad !" 

She  was  obeyed ;  Mr.  Hunt  hurrying  down  to  the  par- 
lors to  silence  the  lovers,  with  the  representation  that  Sarah 
was  too  nervous  to  endure  the  excitement  of  music.  For 
the  remainder  of  the  evening,  a  profound  stillness  pervaded 
the  upper  part  of  the  mansion — a  silence  that,  to  Sarah, 
throbbed  with  the  melody  she  had  tried  to  hush  ;  and  look 
where  she  might,  she  gazed  into  that  rainy,  ghastly  night — 
the  pale,  comfortless  watcher,  the  shadowy  type  of  her 
deeper,  more  blighting  sorrow. 


HUSKS.  105 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FOR  three  days  Philip  Benson  lingered  near  his  beantifui 
enslaver ;  on  the  fourth,  he  carried  a  sad,  yet  trustful  heart 
upon  his  Southern  journey.  Sarah  had  not  seen  him  once 
since  the  evening  of  his  coming.  Through  Lucy,  she  re- 
ceived his  adieux  and  wishes  for  her  speedy  recovery.  On 
the  next  day  but  one  she  left  her  room,  and  appeared  again 
in  the  family  circle — now  complete  in  all  its  parts. 

In  that  short  season  of  bodily  prostration,  the  work  of 
years  had  been  wrought  upon  her  inner  life.  Outwardly 
there  was  h'ttle  alteration  save  that  effected  by  physical 
weakness ;  but  in  her  views  of  existence  and  character,  of 
affections  and  motives,  the  doubter  had  become  the  skeptic ; 
the  dreamer  the  misanthrope.  To  the  gentler  and  more 
womanly  aspirations  that  had  for  a  season  supplanted  the 
somewhat  masculine  tendencies  of  her  mind  and  tastes  had 
succeeded  a  stoicism,  like  the  frozen  calm  of  a  winter's  day, 
uniform  as  relentless.  This  was  the  surface  that  locked  and 
concealed  the  lower  depths  she  had  sworn  should  be  forever 
covered.  Others  could  and  did  live  without  hearts.  She 
could  thrive  as  well  upon  the  husks  and  Sodom  apples  of 
this  world's  goods  as  did  they ;  holding  as  Life's  chief  good, 
complete  and  final  subjugation  of  all  genuine  emotion, 
which,  at  the  best,  was  but  the  rough  ore — fit  for  nothing 
until  purged,  refined,  and  polished  in  its  glitter.  She  found 
no  other  creed  that  suited  her  present  desperate  mood  so 
well  as  the  most  heartless  code  of  the  thorough  worldling 
— the  devotee  to  show,  and  fashion,  and  wealth. 
5* 


106  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OR, 

Such  was  her  mother,  whose  domestic  virtues  were  extol 
led  by  all  who  knew  her;  such,  behind  her  mask  of  tender 
grace  and  amiability,  the  sister  who  had  won,  by  these  fac- 
titious attractions,  the  heart  for  which  Sarah  would  have 
perilled  life,  sacrificed  ease  and  inclination,  bowed  her  proud 
spirit  to  the  estate  of  bond-servant  to  his  every  caprice, 
become  the  willing  slave  to  his  tyrannical  behest.  Yet 
Philip  Benson  was  a  professed  judge  of  character ;  a  man 
of  sense,  education,  and  experience,  and,  knowing  both  girls 
as  he  did,  he  had  made  his  choice ;  set  the  stamp  of  his 
approval  upon  the  shining,  rather  than  the  solid  metal. 
The  world,  as  its  young  would-be  disciple  believed  she  had 
at  length  learned,  was  made  up  of  two  classes :  those  who 
floated,  and  those  who  sank.  To  the  latter  she  determined 
that  she  would  not  belong. 

These  and  kindred  thoughts  were  rife  in  her  mind,  and 
stirring  up  many  a  spring  of  gall  within  her  bosom,  one 
morning  as  she  lay  back  in  an  arm-chair  in  the  sitting-room, 
listening  with  secret  scorn  to  the  prattle  of  the  pair  of  be- 
trothed maidens — Lucy  and  her  friend.  Lucy's  engagement- 
ring  was  a  diamond,  or,  rather,  a  modest  cluster  of  these 
precious  stones,  whose  extreme  beauty  did  not  strike  the 
casual  eye  with  the  startling  effect  of  Victoria's  more  showy 
gage  d' amour.  This  apparent  difference  in  the  value  of  the 
two  was  the  source  of  many  discussions  and  considerable 
heart-burning,  disguised,  of  course,  and  threatened  in  time 
to  produce  a  decided  coolness  between  the  attached  wearers 
of  the  articles  under  debate. 

On  this  particular  day,  Victoria,  after  some  adroit  skir- 
mishing, brought  out  as  a  "  poser  "  the  fact  that,  to  lay  the 
question  to  rest  without  more  ado,  she  had,  since  their  last 
interview,  been  to  Tiffany's,  and  had  her  ring  valued. 
Lucy's  face  was  all  aglow  as  her  soul-sister  named  the  price 
of  her  treasure.  She  clapped  her  hands  joyously. 


HUSKS."  101 

•*  Isn't  .hat  the  joke  of  the  season,  mother  ?" — as  that 
personag  *  entered.  "  Don't  you  think  that  Vic.  was  as 
cunning  as  we  were?  She  carried  her  ring  to  Tiffany's 
yesterday,  too.  Wouldn't  it  have  been  too  funny  if  we  had 
met  there  ?  Mine  came  from  there,  they  said,  and  it  cost  a 
cool  fifty  dollars  more  than  yours  did,  dear !" 

Victoria  flushed  hotly ;  but  further  controversy  being 
useless  and  dangerous  to  her,  she  acquiesced  with  assumed 
carelessness  in  Lucy's  proposal,  that,  since  both  were  suited, 
the  rival  brilliants  should  not  be  again  referred  to  as  a  dis- 
puted matter.  They  accordingly  turned  to  the  safer  and 
endless  conferences  upon  the  trousseaux,  whose  purchase 
must  be  commenced  immediately. 

Their  incomplete  lists  were  produced,  compared,  and 
lengthened — Mrs.  Hunt  suggesting  and  amending;  Sarah 
surveying  the  busy  group  with  the  same  intense  disdain  she 
had  experienced  throughout  the  conversation. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you !  Margaret  Hauton  called  on  me 
yesterday!"  exclaimed  Victoria.  "Did  she  come  here, 
too  ?" 

"Yes;  but  we  were  out.  What  did  she  say?"  queried 
Lucy,  breathlessly. 

"  Why,  the  stupid  creature  never  alluded  to  my  engage- 
ment ;  and  when  I  mentioned  yours,  pretended  not  to  have 
heard  of  it  before.  I  took  care  she  should  not  go  away  as 
ignorant  on  the  subject  as  she  had  come,  and — I  know  it 
was  wicked  in  me,  but  she  deserved  it — all  the  time  I  wa 
praising  your  Goldfinch,  and  telling  how  handsome  and  lib- 
eral he  was,  I  sat  looking  down  at  my  new  ring,  slipping  it 
up  and  down  my  finger,  as  if  I  were  not  thinking  of  it,  but 
of  the  giver.  She  could  not  help  seeing  it,  and,  to  save  hex 
life,  she  could  not  keep  from  changing  countenance." 

"  Good !"  said  Lucy.  "  Do  tell  me  how  she  is  looking 
now  ?" 


108  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

"  Common  enough !  She  had  on  that  everlasting  lilao 
silk,  with  the  embroidered  flounces,  although  the  style  is 
as  old  as  the  hills — and  that  black  lace  mantle,  which,  hap- 
pening to  be  real,  she  never  leaves  off  until  near  Christmas. 
But  her  hat !  black  and  corn-color.  Think  of  it !  corn-color 
against  her  saffron  skin!  When  I  pretend  to  lead  society, 
I  hope  to  dress  decently.  But  I  had  my  revenge  for  her 
supercilious  airs.  Mr.  Bond — George — called  in  the  after- 
noon to  take  me  to  ride.  I  told  you  of  the  handsome  span 
of  fast  horses  he  has  been  buying.  Well !  we  concluded 
to  tiy  the  Bloomingdale  road,  and  just  as  we  were  sailing 
along,  like  the  wind,  whom  should  we  overtake  but  my 
Lady  Hauton,  lounging  in  her  lazy  way  (she  thinks  it  aristo- 
cratic !)  on  the  back  seat  of  her  father's  heavy,  clumsy 
barouche — not  a  soul  in  it  but  her  mother  and  herself. 
Didn't  I  bow  graciously  to  her  as  we  flew  by !  and  again,  as 
we  met  them  creeping  along,  when  we  were  coming  back? 
I  wouldn't  have  missed  the  chance  of  mortifying  her  for  a 
thousand  dollars." 

Lucy  laughed,  with  no  sign  of  disapprobation  at  the 
coarse,  vindictive  spirit  displayed  in  this  petty  triumph  of  a 
small  soul. 

"  How  many  evening-dresses  have  you  put  down  on  your 
paper,  Vic.  ?" 

"Half  a  dozen  only.  I  will  get  others  as  I  need  them. 
The  styles  in  these  change  so  often  that  I  do  not  care  to 
have  too  many  at  a  time." 

"There  you  will  have  the  advantage  of  me,"  said  Lucy, 
Dgenuously.  "  It  will  not  be  so  easy  a  matter  to  replenish 
my  stock  of  wearable  dresses.  I  wish  I  had  asked  Philip 
about  the  Savannah  stores.  I  wonder  if  he  knows  any 
thing  about  them  ?" 

"  He  ought  to — being  such  a  connoisseur  in  ladies' 
dress.  I  declare  I  have  been  absolutely  afraid  of  him  since 


HUSKS.  109 

I  heard  him  say  that  he  considered  a  lady's  apparel  a 
criterion  of  her  character." 

"He  has  exquisite  taste!"  said  Lucy,  with  pardonable 
pride  in  her  lover.  "  It  is  a  positive  pleasure  to  dress  for 
him.  He  sees  and  appreciates  every  thing  that  I  could 
wish  to  have  him  notice.  He  has  often  described  to  me 
what  I  wore,  and  how  I  looked  and  acted  the  evening  he 
fell  in  love.  How  little  we  can  guess  what  is  before  us !  I 
did  not  care  to  go  to  the  hop  that  night,  for  Mr.  Finch  was 
to  wait  on  me,  and  he  was  so  stupid,  you  know,  after 
we  discovered  that  it  was  a  mistake  about  his  being  rich. 
I  think  I  see  him  now,  with  his  red  face  and  short  neck  1 
Oh  dear !  the  fun  we  had  over  that  poor  man !  I  told  you — 
didn't  I,  Sarah — that  we  named  him  Bullfinch,  because  he 
looked  so  much  like  one  ?  When  Phil,  came  we  called  him 
Goldfinch,  and  the  two  went  by  these  names  among  us 
girls.  The  Bullfinch  heard  of  it,  and  he  was  ridiculously 
angry !  So  I  put  on  a  white  tarlatan,  that  one  with  the 
double  jupe,  you  know,  Vic.,  festooned  with  white  moss 
rose-buds,  and  I  had  nothing  but  a  tea-rose  in  my  hair.  I 
danced  once  with  the  Bullfinch — one  of  those  solemn 
quadrilles  that  are  only  fit  for  grandmothers — and  vowed 
to  myself  that  I  would  not  stand  up  again,  except  for  a 
Polka  or  the  Lancers.  While  I  was  sitting  down  by  the 
window,  saying  '  Yes'  and  'No,'  when  Bullfinch  spoke,  Mr. 
Newman  introduced  'Mr.  Benson'  to  'Miss  Hunt,'  and  the 
work  was  done !" 

"No  more  waltzing,  then!"  was  Victoria's  slyly  mali- 
cious sequel. 

"  I  did  not  care  so  much  for  that  as  I  thought  I  should  !" 
replied  easy-tempered  Lu'cy.  "You  cannot  find  a  man  who 
has  not  some  drawback.  Before  I  had  a  chance  for  another 
round,  mother  there  managed  to  telegraph  me  that  my 
fresh  acquaintance  was  worth  catching.  She  had  gotten 


110  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

his  whole  story  out  of  Mrs.  Newman.  He  let  me  know 
pretty  soon,  that  he  had  some  queer  scruples  about  fancy 
dances,  and  I  thought  it  best  to  humor  him  for  one  evening, 
or  until  I  should  ascertain  whether  he  was  really  '  taken'  or 
not.  I  have  never  repented  my  self-denial,  although  I  grant 
that  it  cost  me  a  struggle  to  give  up  '  the  German.'  " 

"  George  lets  me  waltz  to  my  heart's  content,"  said  Vic- 
toria. "  He  is  the  very  soul  of  indulgence.  As  to  laces — • 
I  have  not  a  thing  fit  to  wear.  I  must  get  every  thing  new. 
I  am  glad  of  it !  I  enjoy  shopping  for  them.  If  I  have  a 
passion,  it  is  for  laces !" 

A  sneer  curled  Sarah's  lip,  and  Victoria,  happening  to 
glance  that  way,  could  not  mistake  its  application,  whatever 
she  might  surmise  as  to  its  origin. 

"  I  suppose  you  despise  us  as  a  couple  of  love-sick  girls, 
Sarah  ?"  she  said,  with  a  simper  designed  to  be  sentimental, 
whereas  it  was  spiteful  instead. 

"  I  think  love  the  least  dangerous  of  your  complaints," 
was  the  rejoinder. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Just  what  I  said !" 

"  She  means  that  people  do  not  die  of  love  in  these  days," 
exclaimed  Lucy,  whose  pleasure-loving  nature  always  shud- 
dered at  the  idea  of  altercation  in  her  presence ;  her  sensa- 
tions, during  the  occasional  sparrings  of  her  sister  and  her 
friend,  bearing  a  strong  resemblance  to  those  of  an  innocent 
white  rabbit,  into  whose  burrow  a  couple  of  belligerent 
hedgehogs  have  forced  their  way. 

"  You  will  understand  us  better  one  day,  when  your  turn. 
comes,"  said  Victoria,  with  magnanimous  condescension.  "  I 
shall  remind  you  then  of  your  good  opinion  of  us." 

"  You  may." 

"I  would  give  any  thing  to  have  you  engaged,  just  to  see 
how  you  vv'ould  behave.  Would  not  you,  Lucy  ?" 


HUSKS.  113 

"  Yes ;  if  she  were  likely  to  do  as  well  as  we  are  doing. 
Philip  says  that  you  have  many  fine  qualities,  Sarah.  He 
quite  admires  y  -u." 

The  complacent  betrothed  had  none  but  the  most  amiable 
intentions  in  making  this  patronizing  speech  ;  therefore,  the 
angry  blood  that  surged  over  her  sister's  face  at  hearing  it 
wculd  have  been  to  her  but  the  blush  of  gratified  vanity, 
had  not  the  sparkle  of  her  eye  and  the  contemptuous  con 
tortion  of  her  mouth  undeceived  her. 

"  Indeed  he  did  say  so !"  she  hastened  to  repeat.  "  And 
he  was  in  earnest !  He  said  something  else  which  I  don't 
mind  telling,  now  that  he  belongs  to  me  fast  and  sure.  He 
said  that  he  sat  up  until  twelve  o'clock  one  night  after  you 
had  been  out  boating,  deliberating  whether  he  should  be 
smitten  with  you  or  not.  There !" 

The  color  retreated  as  quickly  as  it  had  come.  But  for 
the  "consciousness  of  Victoria's  malicious  scrutiny,  Sarah 
could  not  have  summoned  strength  to  utter  a  word. 

'"An  equivocal  compliment,  I  must  say !"  she  retorted, 
sarcastically.  "  Your  gallant  Georgian's  confessions  must 
have  been  ample  and  minute  indeed,  if  they  comprised  such 
distant  approaches  to  love  affairs  as  the  one  you  honor  me 
by  mentioning.  I  do  not  think  that  I  have  ever  heard  of 
another  case  where  a  gentleman  considered  it  necessary  to 
enumerate  to  his  fiancee,  not  merely  the  ladies  he  had  loved, 
but  those  whom  he  had  not !"  She  arose  and  left  the  room. 

Poor  Lucy,  rebuffed  and  overwhelmed,  caught  her  as- 
tonished breath  with  a  sigh.  "  Can  anybody  tell  me  what 
I  have  done  now  to  fret  Sarah  ?  She  is  so  cross  since  she 
was  sick  !" 

"And  before,  too!"  mutely  added  Victoria's  shrug  and 
lifted  eyebrows. 

"  We  must  bear  with  her,  my  dear !"  said  the  prudent 
mother.  u  Her  nerves  are  affected,  the  doctor  says." 


THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

made  random  pencillings  upon  the  important 
list — her  thoughts  in  fast  pursuit  of  a  notion  that  had  just 
struck  her.  She  was  neither  witty  nor  intelligent ;  but  she 
possessed  some  natural  shrewdness  and  a  great  deal  more 
acquired  cunning.  She  detested  Sarah  Hunt,  and  the  pros- 
pect of  obtaining  an  engine  that  should  humble  her  arro- 
gant spirit  was  .scarcely  less  tempting  than  her  own  chance 
of  effecting  an  advantageous  matrimonial  settlement. 

While  she  was  engaged  in  defining  her  suspicion  to  her- 
self, and  concerting  measures  for  gathering  information  with 
regard  to  it,  Mrs.  Hunt  went  oni  on  some  household  errand, 
and  Lucy  was  obliged  to  descend  to  the  parlor  to  see  callers. 
"  Don't  go  until  I  come  back,  Vic.  It  is  the  Dunhams, 
and  they  never  stay  long,"  she  said,  at  quitting  her  asso- 
ciate. 

"  Oh,  I  always  make  myself  at  home  here,  you  know,  my 
dear !"  was  the  reply. 

Jeannie  was  sitting  on  a  cushion  near  the  chair  Sarah  had 
occupied,  dressing  her  doll. 

"  It  won't  fit!"  she  cried,  fretfully,  snatching  off  a  velvet 

basque  she  had  been  endeavoring  to  adjust  to  the  lay-figure. 

"Bring  it  to  me!     I  can  fix  it!"  offered  Victoria,  win- 

ningly.     "  It's  too  tight  just  here,  you  see.     I  will  rip  open 

the  seam  and  alter  it.     Who  makes  your  dolly's  clothes  ?" 

She  was  well  aware  that  but  one  member  of  the  family 
ever  had  leisure  to  bestow  upon  such  follies ;  but  it  suited 
her  plan  for  Jeannie  to  introduce  her  name. 
"Sister  Sarah." 

"  This  is  a  pretty  Basque.     When  did  she  make  it  ?" 
"  Yesterday." 

"Oh!  I  thought  perhaps  she  did  it  while  you  were  in 
the  country,  and  that  the  doll  had  fattened  as  much  as  yoK 
did  there." 

Jeannit  laughed  heartily. 


HUSKS.  113 

"  You  had  a  nice  time  there,  I  suppose  ?"  pursued  Vic- 
toria. 

"  I  guess  we  did !"  Her  eyes  danced  at  the  recollection. 
"  A  splendid  time !  I  wish  we  lived  at  Aunt  Sarah's !  There 
isn't  room  for  me  to  move  in  this  narrow  house." 

"  Mr.  Benson  was  there  a  day  or  two,  was  he  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am — a  great  many  days !  He  took  us  all 
around  the  country  in  Uncle  Nathan's  carriage.  I  love  him 
very  dearly !" 

"  Did  you  ever  go  sailing  with  him  ?" 

"  Every  evening,  when  it  was  clear,  in  a  pretty  row-boat. 
He  used  to  take  his  guitar  along,  and  sing  for  us.  He  sings 
beautifully  !  Did  you  ever  hear  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Did  your  sister  always  go  boating  with  you  ?" 

The  spy,  with  all  her  hardihood,  lowered  her  voice,  and 
felt  her  face  warm  as  she  put  this  leading  question. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  always.  Mr.  Benson  would  not  have  gone 
without  her,  I  guess." 

"  Why  do  you  guess  so  ?" 

The  little  girl  smiled  knowingly.  "  Because — you  won't 
tell,  will  you  ?" 

"  Why  no !     Of  course  I  will  not." 

"  Charley  said  it  was  a  secret,  and  that  I  mustn't  say 
any  thing  to  sister  or  Mr.  Benson  about  it,  for  they  would 
be  angry." 

"Who  is  Charley?" 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  He  is  Aunt  Sarah's  son.  He  is 
deaf  and  dumb ;  but  he  showed  me  how  to  spell  on  my 
fingers.  He  is  a  nice  boy — " 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  was  the  secret  ?" 

"He  said  that  Mr.  Benson — cousin  Phil.  I  call  him  when  I 
am  talking  to  him — was  sister's  beau ;  and  he  would  take 
me  off  with  him  when  we  went  to  drive  or  walk,  because, 
you  know,  they  might  not  like  to  have  me  hear  what  they 


114  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

were  talking  about.  They  used  to  talk,  and  talk,  and  talk! 
arid  sister  had  a  great  deal  more  to  say,  and  looked  prettier 
than  she  does  at  home.  I  will  tell  you  something  else,  if 
you  won't  ever  let  anybody  know  it.  I  never  told  Aunt 
Sarah  even,  only  Charley.  Sister  cried  ever  so  long  the 
night  after  Cousin  Phil,  went  away.  She  woke  me  up  sob- 
bing ;  but  I  made  believe  that  I  was  asleep ;  and  in  the 
morning  her  pillow  was  right  wet.  Charley  said  that  all 
ladies  that  he  had  read  about  in  his  books  did  so  when  their 
oeaux  left  them." 

"  See  here,  my  little  lady !"  said  the  dissembler,  with  a 
startling  change  of  tone.  "  You  are  altogether  mistaken — • 
you  and  Charley  both !  Mr.  Benson  is  going  to  marry  your 
sister  Lucy,  and  never  was  a  beau  of  Sarah's.  Be  very 
careful  not  to  talk  about  Charley's  wicked  story  to  your 
father,  or  mother,  or  sisters,  for  they  would  be  very  much 
displeased,  and  maybe  punish  you  for  repeating  such  fibs. 
Little  girls  ought  never  to  hear  or  know  any  thing  about 
courting  or  beaux — it's  naughty !  •  I  won't  tell  on  you,  if 
you  will  promise  never  to  do  so  again.  I  am  shocked  at 
you  !  Now  take  your  dolly  and  go  !" 

The  frightened  child  encountered  Lucy  at  the  door.  Miss 
West  had  calculated  her  time  to  a  minute.  Her  eyes  swim- 
ming in  tears,  her  features  convulsed  with  the  effort  to  keep 
back  sob  and  outcry,  Jeanuie  started  up  to  her  attic  play- 
room. Sarah's  door  was  ajar,  and  engaged  as  she  was  with 
thoughts  of  her  own  troubles  and  insults,  she  could  not  but 
remark  the  expression  of  her  darling's  lace,  in  the  momen- 
tary glimpse  she  had  as  it  passed. 

"Jeannie!  comeback!"  she  called. 

The  child  hesitated,  half  way  up  the  next  flight.  Sarah 
repeated  the  summons,  and  seeing  that  it  was  not  obeyed, 
went  up  and  took  the  rebel  by  the  hand. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?" 


TITTSKS.      .  115 

A  reddening  and  distortion  of  visage,  and  no  reply.  Hei 
sister  led  her  back  to  her  chamber,  shut  the  door,  and  put 
her  arms  around  her. 

"  Tell  me  what  ails  you,  dear  !" 

Jeannie  fell  upon  her  comforter's  neck — the  repressed 
torrent  breaking  through  all  restraint.  "  Oh,  sister,  I  can' 
help  crying  !  Miss  Vic.  West  has  been  scolding  me !" 

"  Scolding  you !  She  !  I  will  go  down  and  speak  to  her 
this  instant !  How  dared  she  ?" 

"  No,  no  !  please  don't !  She  told  me  not  to  say  any 
thing  to  you  about  it." 

"  The  contemptible  coward !"  said  Sarah,  between  her 
teeth.  "  How  came  you  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with 
her?"' 

"Mother" and  sister  Lucy  went  down-stairs,  and  she  said 
she  would  alter  my  doll's  basque,  and — and — and"  a  fresh 
burst  of  lamentation. 

"  There,  that  will  do,  pet !  I  see  that  she  only  made  it 
worse!"  soothed  Sarah,  believing  that,  in  the  unfinished 
state  of  dolly's  wardrobe,  she  had  discovered  the  root  of 
the  trouble.  "  Never  mind,  dear !  I  will  set  all  that  to 
rights  directly.  Now  wipe  your  eyes,  and  let  me  tell  you 
something.  This  afternoon  father  is  to  take  me  to  ride,  and 
,you  shall  go,  too.  As  for  Miss  Victoria,  we  will  let  her  pass, 
and  keep  out  of  her  way,  hereafter." 

Secretly,  she  was  very  angry — far  more  so  than  she  was 
willing  to  have  the  child  suspect.  As  the  patient  fingers 
repaired  the  eifects  of  the  original  bad  fit,  and  Miss  West's 
meddling,  Jeannie  stood  by,  thankful  and  interested,  yet 
ashamed  to  look  her  wronged  sister  in  the  eyes.  Not  that 
she  had  the  remotest  conception  of  the  mischief  that  might 
grow  out  of  her  imprudent  disclosures ;  but  she  had  broken 
faith  with  Charley,  been  accused  of  tattling  and  indelicacy, 
and  warned  too  stringently  against  repeating  the  offence  to 


116  THE    EMPTY    IIEAiTJ     OK, 

suffer  her  to  relieve  her  conscience  by  a  full  confession  to 
the  being  she  most  loved  and  honored. 

At  four  o'clock  Sarah  and  her  charge  were  ready,  accord- 
ing to  Mi*.  Hunt's  appointment.  The  carriage  was  likewise 
punctual ;  but  from  it  stepped,  not  the  parent  of  the  expect- 
ant girls,  but  a  younger  and  taller  man — in  short,  Mr.  Hunt's 
particular  favorite — Lewis  Hammond.  Jeannie,  who  had 
stationed  herself  at  an  upper  window  to  watch  for  her 
father's  appearance,  was  still  exclaiming  over  this  disap- 
pointment, and  wondering  why  "  Mr.  Hammond  must  call 
just  now  to  keep  sister  at  home,"  when  the  footman  brought 
up  a  note  to  Sarah. 

It  was  from  Mr.  Hunt,  explaining  the  cause  of  his  un- 
looked-for detention  at  the  bank,  and  stating  that  Mr.'  Hani' 
mond,  whom  he  had  met  earlier  in  the  day,  and  acquainted 
with  his  design  of  giving  his  daughter  this  ride,  happened 
to  drop  in,  and  seeing  him  engaged  with  business,  had  asked 
leave  to  officiate  as  his  substitute  in  the  proposed  airing. 
He  urged  Sarah  to  take  Jeannie  along,  and  not  hesitate 
to  accept  Mr.  Hammond's  polite  attendance,  adding,  in 
phrase  brief,  but  sincere,  how  lightly  he  should  esteem  his 
hour  of  extra  labor,  if  he  knew  that  she  was  not  a  sufferer 
by  it. 

Sarah  passed  the  note  to  her  mother,  and  drew  her  shawl 
about  her  shoulders. 

"  Of  course  you'll  go !"  said  Mrs.  Hunt,  radiant  with 
gratification.  "  It  is  perfectly  proper,  and  Mr.  Hammond  is 
very  kind,  I'm  sure." 

She  was  hurrying  towards  the  door  to  convey  in  person 
her  thanks  for  his  gallantry,  when  Sarah  spoke  firmly  and 
very  coolly : 

"  I  will  say  whatever  is  necessary  to  Mr.  Hammond,  if 
you  please,  mother.  I  shall  go  because  father  wishes  it,  and 
for  no  other  reason.  Come,  Jeannie !" 


HUSKS.  117 

"  Won't  she  be  in  your  way  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Hunt,  awed, 
but  not  extinguished. 

"  No,  madam." 

Sarah  suffered  Mr.  Hammond  to  place  her  in  the  carriage; 
and  himself  opposite  to  her ;  and  keeping  before  her  mind 
carefully  the  fact  that  he  was  her  father's  friend,  perhaps 
the  savior  of  his  life,  she  unbent,  as  much  as  she  could, 
from  her  distant,  ungracious  bearing,  to  sustain  her  part  of 
the  conversation.  She  must  have  been  purblind  not  to  see 
through  her  mother's  wishes,  and  manoeuvres  for  their  ac- 
complishment ;  but  to  these  views  she  was  persuaded  that 
Mr.  Hammond  was  no  party.  She  saw  in  him  a  sedate, 
rather  reserved  gentleman  of  thirty-two  or  three,  who  had 
passed  the  heyday  of  youthful  loves  and  joys ;  sensible  and 
cultivated  to  an  uncommon  degree  for  a  man  of  business — 
for  such  he  emphatically  was. 

A  poor  boy  in  the  beginning,  he  had  fortunately  attracted 
the  regard  of  a  thriving  New  York  merchant,  and  retained 
that  favor  through  the  years  that  had  elevated  him  from  the 
lowest  clerkship  to  a  partnership  in  the  now  opulent  firm. 
For  probity  and  punctuality  no  man  in  the  city  had  a  higher 
reputation  ;  but  his  virtues  were  of  that  quiet  nature  which, 
while  they  inevitably  retain  regard  once  won,  are  slow  to 
gain  admiration.  To  matrimonial  speculators,  as  in  financial 
circles,  he  was  known  as  a  "  safe  chance,"  and  many  a  pru- 
dent mamma  on  his  list  of  acquaintances  would  have  rejoiced 
had  he  selected  her  daughter  as  mistress  of  his  heart  and 
fortune.  Whether  he  was  aware  of  this  or  not  could  not 
have  been  determined  by  his  modest,  but  dignified  deport 
ment.  He  did  not  avoid  company ;  went  whither  he  was 
invited,  and,  when  there,  comported  himself  like  a  conscien 
tious  member  of  society,  talking,  dancing,  or  listening,  with 
as  due  regard  to  law  and  order  as  he  manifested  in  his  daily 
business  life.  Fast  girls  called  him  "  awfully  matter-of-fact," 


118  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

and  "  tei-ribly  sensible ;"  fast  youths  of  the  other  sex  put 
him  down  among  the  "  old  fogies,"  and  wondered  what  he 
did  with  his  money.  "  Could  it  be  possible  that  he  saved 
it !"  He  was  intimate  nowhere  except  in  the  household  of 
his  whilom  employer  and  present  partner,  whose  daughters 
were  all  married  and  settled  in  houses  of  their  own.  If  he 
had  ever  cared  to  look  twice  at  the  same  lady,  the  watchful 
world  had  not  yet  laid  hold  of  this  marvellous  departure 
from  his  fixed  habits. 

His  intercourse  with  Mr.  Hunt's  family  was,  as  we  know, 
purely  accidental  in  its  commencement,  and  in  its  earlier 
stages  might  have  been  induced  by  humanity  or  friendship 
for  the  sick  father.  In  Sarah's  brain  there  had  never  arisen 
a  suspicion  of  any  ulterior  motive  in  the  pointed  attentions 
directed  of  late  to  herself.  Before  Lucy's  return,  the  care 
of  her  invalid  parent  and  her  day-dreams  had  engrossed 
heart  and  thought  to  an  extent  that  precluded  much  inquiry 
into  other  themes.  Since  that  memorable  night,  inward 
torture  had  abstracted  her  mind  still  more  from  outward 
impressions. 

This  afternoon  she  talked  calmly  and  indifferently  to  Mr. 
Hammond,  without  an  idea  that  he  made  any  greater 
effort  to  please  her.  To  Dannie  she  was  tender  beyond  her 
usual  showing,  in  remembrance  of  the  wrong  done  the  sen 
sitive  child  in  the  forenoon.  Mr.  Hammond  emulated  hei 
in  kindness, to  the  third  member  of  their  party;  and  in  the 
course  of  their  ride,  raised  himself  unwittingly  to  the  rank 
of  rivalship  with  "  Cousin  Philip,"  her  model  gentleman. 

Mr.  Hunt  came  out  to  assist  his  daughter  to  alight,  upon 
their  return.  There  was  a  heartiness  in  his  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  deputy's  politeness,  and  invitation  to  enter  the 
house  and  pass  the  evening  with  them,  which  Sarah  had 
seldom  heard  him  employ  towards  any  visitor.  Mr.  Ham- 
mond may  have  remarked  it  likewise,  for  his  decliuature 


HUSKS.  119 

was  evidently  against  his  inclination,  and  coupled  with  a 
promise  to  call  at  an  early  day.  His  visits  were  not  alto- 
gether  so  agreeable  as  formerly,  for  he  was  received  in  the 
spacious  parlors  on  a  footing  with  other  callers,  and  in  the 
presence  of  several  members  of  the  family ;  still  he  came 
repeatedly,  with  pretext  and  without,  until  his  sentiments 
and  design  were  a  secret  to  no  one  except  their  object. 

Wrapped  in  the  sad  thoughts  that  isolated  her  from  the 
rest  of  the  world,  even  while  she  made  a  part  of  its  show, 
Sarah  omitted  to  mark  many  things  that  should  have  been 
significant  signs  of  under-currents,  and  tokens  of  important 
issues  to  her  and  those  about  her.  Lucy  had  ceased  to 
harp  perpetually  upon  her  lover's  perfections  and  idolatrous 
flattery  to  herself,  and  while  the  wedding  arrangements 
went  vigorously  forward,  the  disengaged  sister  was  rarely 
annoyed  by  references  to  her  taste  and  demands  for  her 
sympathy.  There  had  never  existed  much  congeniality 
between  the  two,  and  their  common  ground  was  now  ex- 
ceedingly narrow.  Lucy  was  gentle  and  pleasant,  peace- 
fully egotistic  as  ever,  and  Sarah  understood  her  too  well 
to  expect  active  affection  or  disinterestedness.  The  only 
part  of  her  behavior  to  herself  to  which  she  took  mental 
exception  was  a  certain  pitying  forbearance,  a  compassionate 
leniency  with  respect  to  her  faults  and  foibles,  that  had 
grown  upon  her  of  late.  Once  or  twice  the  younger  sister 
had  become  so  restive  under  this  gratuitous  charity  as  to 
reply  sharply  to  the  whey-like  speeches  of  the  mild  elder, 
and,  without  any  appearance  of  .wounded  feeling,  yet  with 
not  a  word  of  apology  or  reason  for  so  doing,  Lucy  had 
left  the  apartment,  and  never  hinted  at  the  circumstance 
afterwards. 

Lucy  was  certainly  the  soul,  the  very  cream  of  amiabili- 
ty. It  was  unaccountable  to  her  admirers — and  they  in- 
cluded most  of  her  associates — that  Lewis  Hammond,  with 


120  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OK, 

his  peculiar  habits  and  tastes,  should  prefer  that  severe- 
looking,  strong-minded  Sarah.  But  be  it  remembered  that 
he  had  learned  this  love  under  far  different  influences ;  in 
circumstances  wholly  unlike  those  in  which  he  now  beheld 
its  object.  His  respect  for  unobtrusive  intent  and  feeling ; 
his  longing  for  a  home  which  should  be  the  abode  of  sacred 
domestic  virtues ;  and  the  sweet  peace  that  had  fled  from  the 
habitations  frequented  only  by  the  frivolous,  heartless,  and 
vain — these  found  in  the  sick-room  of  the  father,  and  the 
affectionate  fidelity  of  the  daughter,  something  so  like  the 
embodiment  of  his  fancy  of  earthly  happiness,  that  he  ac- 
cepted as  a  benignant  fate  the  accident  which  had  admitted 
him  to  the  arcana  of  their  private  life.  Sarah's  temporary 
illness  had  taught  him  the  meaning  of  his  dreams,  by 
seeming  to  p^ril  the  chances  of  their  fulfilment ;  and  from 
that  hour  he  strove  patiently  and  sedulously,  as  it  was  hia 
habit,  to  seek  all  great  ends  for  the  acquisition  of  the  heart 
whose  depth  he,  perhaps,  of  ah1  who  knew  her,  best  under- 
stood. 

The  most  impatient  person  of  those  directly  or  indirect- 
ly concerned  in  the  progress  of  this  wooing  was  Mrs.  Hunt. 
Her  husband,  with  unwonted  firmness,  had  forbidden  that 
any  one  of  the  household  should  speak  a  word  in  raillery 
or  otherwise  to  Sarah  touching  Mr.  Hammond's  intentions. 
"  However  earnestly  I  may  desire  his  success,"  he  said  to 
his  wife — "  and  there  is  no  man  living  whom  I  would  rather 
call  '  son' — I  would  not  influence  her  by  the  weight  of  a 
pingle  syllable.  Hers  is  the  happiness  or  the  misery  of  a  life 
with  her  husband — whomsoever  she  may  choose,  and  hers 
shall  be  the  entire  choice.  If  she  can  love  and  marry  Lewis 
Hammond,  I  shall  be  gratified ;  if  not,  she  shall  never 
guess  at  my  disappointment." 

"  La,  Mr.  H. !  you  are  as  foolish  and  sentimental  as  the 
girl  herself !  For  my  part,  I  ain't  such  a  saint,  and  I  do  say, 


121 


that  if  Sarah  Hunt   allows   such   a   catch   as   this  to  slip 
through  her  fingers,  she  shall  hear  a  piece  of  my  mind  1" 

"I  insist,"  said  Mr.  Hunt,  with  immovable  resolution, 
"  that  Sarah  shall  be  allowed  to  fullow  the  guidance  of  her 
own  will  in  this  matter.  It  is  not  often  that  I  interfere 
with  your  plans;  but  in  this  one  instance  I  must  be 
obeyed !" 

With  which  astounding  declaration  of  equal  rights,  if  not 
of  sovereignty,  he  left  his  consort  to  her  reflections. 

Ignorant  of  the  delicate  watchfulness  maintained  over  her 
by  this  best  of  friends,  Sarah  walked  on  her  beclouded  way 
— without  hope,  without  one  anticipation  of  any  future  dis- 
similar to  her  present,  until  awakened  with  a  shock  by  a 
formal  declaration  of  love  from  Lewis  Hammond. 
6 


122  THE    EMPTY    HEART!     OK, 


CHAPTER    IX. 

IT  was  at  the  close  of  an  evening  party  which  both  the 
Hunts  attended,  and  where  Mr.  Hammond's  devotion  was 
as  marked  as  any  thing  so  modest  could  be,  that  Sarah  felt 
him  slip  an  envelope  into  her  hand,  as  he  put  her  into  the 
carriage.  Surprised  as  she  was  at  the  singularity  of  the 
occurrence,  and  disposed  to  take  offence  at  the  familiarity 
it  implied,  she  had  yet  the  presence  of  mind  to  conceal 
the  missive  from  Lucy,  and  talk  about  other  things,  until 
they  were  set  down  at  home.  In  the  privacy  of  her 
chamber,  she  broke  the  seal  and  read  her  first  love-letter. 

It  was  a  characteristic  composition.  If  the  strong  han£ 
had  trembled  above  the  lines,  the  clear,  clerkly  penman- 
ship did  not  witness  to  the  weakness.  Nor  was  there  any 
thing  in  the  subject-matter  that  did  not  appear  to  Sarah  as 
business-like  and  unimpassioned.  It  was  a  frank  and  manly 
avowal  of  attachment  for  her ;  a  compliment  implied,  rather 
than  broadly  stated,  to  her  virtues;  the  traits  that  had 
gained  his  esteem,  then  his  love — a  deprecatory  sentence  as 
to  his  ability  to  deserve  the  treasure  he  dared  to  ask — and 
then  the  question  I  in  plain  black  and  white,  unequivocal  to 
bluntness,  simple  and  direct  to  curtness. 

"  As  he  would  ask  the  price  of  a  bale  of  goods !"  burst 
forth  Sarah,  indignant,  as  she  threw  the  paper  on  the  floor, 
and  buried  her  burning  face  in  her  hands. 

"That  there  comes  sometimes  a  glory  to  the  Present, 
beside  which  the  hues  of  Past  and  Future  fade  and  are 


123 


forgotten,  I  must  and  will  believe.  Such,  it  seems  to  me, 
must  be  the  rapture  of  acknowledged  and  reciprocal  affec- 
tion !"  This  was  the  echo  memory  repeated  to  her  soul. 
She  saw  again  the  gently  gliding  river,  with  its  waves  of 
crimson  and  gold  ;  breathed  the  pure  fragrance  of  the  sum- 
mer evening ;  floated  on,  towards  the  sunset,  with  the  loved 
voice  in  her  ear ;  the  dawn  of  a  strange  and  beautiful  life, 
shedding  blissful  calm  throughout  her  being. 

And  from  this  review,  dangerous  as  it  was,  for  one  fleet- 
ing instant,  sweet,  she  returned  to  the  proposal  that  had 
amazed  and  angered  her.  Lewis's  undemonstrative  exterior 
had  misled  her,  as  it  did  most  persons,  in  the  estimate  ot 
his  inner  nature.  Kind,  she  was  compelled  to  confess  that 
he  was,  in  the  remembrance  of  his  goodness  to  her  father; 
his  demeanor  was  always  gentlemanly,  and  she  had  caught 
here  and  there  rumors  of  his  generosity  to  the  needy  that 
prevented  a  suspicion  of  sordidness.  No  doubt  he  was  very 
well  in  his  way ;  but  he  wanted  to  marry  her  !  "With  the 
intensity  of  her  fiery  spirit,  her  will  arose  against  the  pre- 
sumptuous request.  It  was  the  natural  recoil  of  the  woman 
who  already  loves,  at  the  suggestion  of  a  union  with  anoth- 
er than  the  man  of  her  choice ;  the  spontaneous  outspeaking 
of  a  heart  whose  allegiance  vows  have  been  pledged  and 
cannot  be  nullified.  But  she  would  not  see  this.  Upon 
the  unfortunate  letter  and  its  writer  descended  the  storm 
of  passionate  repugnance  aroused  by  its  contents.  With 
the  reaction  of  excited  feeling  came  tears — a  plentiful  show- 
er that  relaxed  the  overwrought  nerves,  until  they  were 
ready  to  receive  the  benediction  of  sleep. 
Lewis  had  not  asked  a  written  or  verbal  reply. 

"  I  will  call  to  take  you  to  drive  to-morrow  afternoon," 
he  wrote.  "  Should  ydur  decision  upon  the  question  I  have 
proposed  be  favorable,  your  consent  to  accompany  me  in 


124  THE    EMPTY    HE ART J    OR, 

my  ride  will  be  understood  as  a  signal  that  you  have 
accepted  my  graver  suit.  If  your  conclusion  is  adverse  to 
ray  hopes,  you  can  signify  the  same  to  me  in  a  letter,  to  be 
handed  me  when  I  ask  for  you.  This  course  will  spare  us 
both  embarrassment — perhaps  pain.  In  any  event,  be  as- 
sured that  you  will  ever  have  a  firm  friend  in 
"  Yours  truly, 

"LEWIS  HAMMO:NT>." 

Sarah's  lip  curled  as  she  reperused  this  clause  of  the  letter 
on  the  following  morning. 

"  It  is  a  comfort  to  know  that  I  have  not  to  answer  for 
the  sin  of  breaking  my  ardent  suitor's  heart !"  she  said,  as 
she  drew  towards  her  the  sheet  upon  which  she  was  to 
indite  her  refusal.  It  was  brief  and  courteous — freezing  in 
its  punctilious  civility,  and  prepared  without  a  pang,  or  a 
solitary  misgiving  that  its  reception  would  not  be  philosoph- 
ically calm.  Her  design  was  to  intrust  it  to  the  footman, 
to  be  delivered  when  Mr.  Hammond  called  ;  and  as  the 
hour  approached  at  which  the  expectant  was  to  present 
himself,  she  took  the  note  from  the  desk,  and  started  down- 
stairs with  it. 

The  sitting-room  door  was  open,  and,  aware  that  Victoria 
West  was  in  there  with  Lucy,  Sarah  trod  very  softly  as  she 
neared  it.  Her  own  name  arrested  her  as  she  was  going 
by.  She  stopped  involuntarily. 

"  I  thought  Sarah  a  girl  of  better  regulated  mind,"  said 
Victoria,  in  a  tone  of  censorious  pity.  "  Of  course  she 
suffers  !  It  is  the  inevitable  consequence  of  an  unrequited 
attachment.  Such  miserable  folly,  such  unpardonable  weak- 
ness brings  its  punishment  with  it.  But  my  sympathies 
are  all  yours,  my  dearest.  I  only  wish  you  were  not  so 
sensitive.  You  are  not  to  blame  for  her  blind  mistake." 

"  I  cannot  help  it !"  said  Lucy,  plaintively.     "  It  seems  so 


H  TJ  S  K  8  .  125 

§ad  that  I  should  be  made  the  means  of  depriving  her  of 
happiness.  I  wish  I  had  never  known  that  she  was  attached 
to  poor  Philip.  I  can't  tell  you  how  awkward  I  feel  when 
any  allusion  is  made  in  her  hearing  to  the  dear  fellow,  or  to 
our  marriage." 

"  I  meant  it  for  the  best,  dear,  in  telling  you  of  my  dis- 
covery," replied  Victoria,  slightly  hurt. 

"  I  know  that,  my  dear  creature  !  And  it  is  well  that  I 
should  not  be  kept  in  the  dark  as  to  the  state  of  her  affec- 
tions. I  only  hope  that  Philip  never  penetrated  her  secret. 
I  should  die  of  mortification  for  her,  if  he  were  to  find  it  out. 
It  is  a  lamentable  affair — and  I  am  sure  that  he  is  not  in 
fault.  What  did  you  say  that  you  gave  for  that  set  of 
handkerchiefs  you  showed  me  yesterday  ?" 

"  The  cheapest  things  you  ever  saw !  I  got  them  at 
Stewart's,  and  they  averaged  six  dollars  apiece!  As  to  Mr. 
Benson,  I  trust,  with  you,  that  he  is  as  unsuspecting  as  he 
seems;  but  he  has  remarkable  discernment,  you  know. 
What  I  could  not  help  seeing,  before  I  had  any  other  proof 
than  her  behavior,  is  not  likely  to  have  escaped  him." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  twain  were  disturbed  in  their  con- 
fidences by  the  sound  of  wheels  stopping  before  the  house, 
followed  by  a  ring  at  the  door.  Victoria,  ever  on  the  alert, 
peeped,  with  feline  caution  and  curiosity,  around  the  edge 
of  the  curtain. 

"  What  is  going  to  happen  ?  Look,  Lucy !  Mr.  Ham- 
mond in  a  handsome  light  carriage,  and  driving  a  lovely 
pair  of  horses!  I  never  thought  to  see  him  go  in  suet 
style.  How  well  he  looks !  Take  care !  he  will  see  you !" 

Both  dodged  as  he  glanced  at  the  upper  windows ;  but 
resumed  their  look-out  in  time  to  see  the  light  that  waa 
kindled  in  his  face  when  Sarah  emerged  from  the  front  door. 
He  was  at  her  side  in  a  second,  to  lead  her  down  the  steps, 
and  his  manner  in  this  movement,'  and  in  assisting  her  into 


126  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OK, 

the  carriage,  the  more  striking  in  one  generally  so  self-con- 
tained and  deliberate,  inspired  the  pair  of  initiated  observers 
with  the  same  conviction.  As  the  spirited  horses  disap 
peared  into  the  Avenue,  the  friends  drew  back  from  their 
loop-hole,  and  stared  each  other  in  the  eyes,  with  the  simul- 
taneous exclamation — "  They  are  engaged  !" 

They  were  engaged !  Lewis  felt  it  with  a  glad  bound  of 
the  heart — but  a  minute  before  sickening  in  deadly  suspense  : 
felt,  as  he  seated  himself  by  her  side,  that  the  sorrows  of  a 
lonely  and  struggling  youth,  the  years  of  manhood's  isola- 
tion and  unsatisfied  longings,  were  swept  from  memory  by 
this  hour  of  abundant,  unalloyed  happiness. 

And  Sarah  felt  it  1  As  her  hand  touched  his,  at  their 
meeting  upon  the  steps,  a  chill  ran  through  her  frame  that 
told  the  consummation  of  the  sacrifice  which  was  to  atone 
for  past  folly ;  to  silence,  and  brand  as  a  lying  rumor,  the 
fearful  tale  that  bruited  abroad  the  revelation  of  that  weak- 
ness. In  her  mad  horror  at  the  knowledge  of  its' discovery, 
she  had  rushed  upon  this  alternative.  Better  an  estate  of 
honorable  misery,  than  to  live  on,  solitary,  disgraced,  con- 
demned and  pitied  by  her  meanest  foe  !  Now  that  the  irre- 
versible step  was  taken,  she  experienced  no  sharp  regret, 
no  wild  impulse  of  retreat,  "but  a  gradual  sinking  of  spirit 
into  hopeless  apathy. 

Her  veil  concealed  her  dull  eyes  and  stolid  features,  and 
to  Lewis's  happy  mood  there  was  nothing  surprising  or  dis- 
couraging in  her  disposition  to  silence.  With  a  tact  for 
which  she  had  not  given  him  credit,  and  did  .not  now  value 
aright,  he  refrained  from  any  direct  reference  to  their  altered 
relation  until  they  were  returning  homeward.  Then  chang- 
ing his  tone  of  pleasant  chat  for  one  of  deeper  meaning,  he 
said : — 

"I  have  dared  to  hope  much — every  thing — from  your 
consent  to  become  my  companion  for  this  afternoon.  Be- 


H'JSKS.  127 

fore  I  ventured  to  address  you  directly,  I  had  a  long  and 
frank  conversation  with  your  father." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?"  asked  Sarah,  turning  towards  him 
for  the  first  time. 

"  He  referred  me  to  you  for  my  answer,  which,  he  said, 
must  be  final  and  positive,  since  he  would  never  attempt  to 
influence  your  choice.  In  the  event  of  an  affirmative  reply 
from  you,  he  promised  that  his  sanction  should  not  be  with  • 
held." 

Sarah  was  silent.  She  comprehended  fully  her  father's 
warm  interest  in  his  friend's  suit,  which  the  speaker  was  too 
diffident  to  imply,  and  how  this  expression  of  his  wishes  set 
the  seal  upon  her  fate. 

"  We  are  poor  and  proud !  Mr.  Hammond  is  rich  and 
seeks  to  marry  me !"  was  her  bitter  thought.  "  It  is  a  fine 
bargain  in  the  eyes  of  both  my  parents.  It  would  be  high 
treason  in  me  to  dispute  their  will.  Mr.  Hammond  has 
conceived  the  notion  that  I  am  a  useful  domestic  character, 
a  good  housekeeper  and  nurse,  and  he  is  willing  to  bid  lib- 
erally for  my  services.  It  is  all  arranged  between  them ! 
Mine  is  a  passive  part,  to  copy  Lucy's  sweet,  submissive 
ways  for  a  season,  for  fear  of  frightening  away  the  game, 
afterwards  to  attend  to  my  business,  while  he  looks  after 
his.  I  have  chosen  my  lot,  and  I  will  abide  by  it !" 

"  Have  I  your  permission  to  call  this  evening  and  inform 
your  father  of  my  success — may  I  say  of  our  engagement  ?" 
asked  Lewis. 

"  It  is  best,  I  suppose,  to  call  things  by  their  right  names,'; 
replied  Sarah,  in  a  cold  voice,  that  was  to  him  only  coy.  He 
smiled,  and  was  about  to  speak,  when  she  resumed :  "  Since 
we  are  virtually  engaged" — she  caught  her  breath  as  she 
brought  out  the  word — "  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should 
hesitate  to  announce  it  to  those  whose  right  it  is  to  know 
it." 


128  THE    EMPTY     HEART;     OR, 

"  Thank  you !  That  was  spoken  like  the  noble,  unaffected 
woman  you  are.'  Will  you  always  be  equally  sincere  with 
me — Sarah  ?"  His  accent  trembled  with  excess  of  emotion 
in  calling  the  name. 

Is  it,  then,  an  easy  lot  that  you  have  chosen,  Sarah  Hunt  ? 
You,  whose  pride  and  glory  it  was  to  be  truthful,  who 
spurned  whatever  assimilated  in  the  least  degree  to  decep- 
tion, what  think  you  of  a  life  where  a  lie  meets  you  on  the 
threshold,  and  must  be  accepted  and  perpetuated,  if  you 
would  preserve  your  name  and  position  in  his  eyes  and  those 
of  the  world.  "  It  is  the  way  two-thirds  of  the  married 
people  live  !"  you  were  saying  to  yourself,  just  now.  It 
may  be  so ;  but  it  is  none  the  less  a  career  of  duplicity,  per- 
jury— crime  ! 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  please  you !"  she  faltered,  her  face 
in  a  flame  of  shame  and  confusion. 

And  this  was  the  hue  that  met  Lewis's  eye,  as  her  veil 
was  blown  aside,  in  her  descent  to  the  pavement,  a  blush  he 
interpreted  to  suit  his  own  wishes.  Mr.  Hunt  .appeared  in 
the  door-way  as  she  alighted,  and  read  in  Hammond's 
smile  and  joyous  salutation  all  that  he  most  desired  to  learn. 
When  the  door  was  closed  upon  the  departing  suitor,  the 
father  drew  his  best-beloved  child  to  him,  and  kissed  her, 
without  a  word  of  uttered  blessing. 

"It  would  break  his  heart  were  I  to  recede  now!" 
thought  Sarah,  as  she  bore  hers — heavy,  hard — up  to  her 
room. 

That  evening  was  the  proudest  era  of  Mrs.  Hunt's  exist- 
ence. Two  daughters  well  engaged  —  unexceptionably 
paired  off!  What  mother  more  blest  than  she?  Where 
could  be  found  other  children  so  dutiful?  other  sons-in-law 
so  acceptable?  By  breakfast  time,  next  day,  she  had 
arranged  every  thing — Sarah's  trousseau,  her  house,  and  th« 
double  wedding. 


HUSKS.  129 

Lucy  expostulated  here.  "  But,  mother,  this  is  the  first 
of  November." 

"  I  know  that,  my  dear  ;  but  the  ceremony  will  not  come 
off  un  til  Christmas,  and  much  can  be  done  in  six  weeks  foi 
your  sister — your  work  is  so  forward.  Then,  again,  'tisn't 
as  if  Sarah  couldn't  get  every  thing  she  needs  right  here,  if 
she  shouldn't  have  enough.  It  will  be  tremendously  expen- 
sive— awful,  in  fact ;  but  we  must  make  sacrifices.  We 
can  live  economical  after  you're  married  and  gone,  and 
save  enough  to  meet  the  bills." 

"  If  you  please,  madam,  I  prefer  a  plain  outfit,  and  no 
debts,"  said  Sarah's  most  abrupt  tones. 

"  If  you  please,  my  dear,  I  understand  my  affairs,  and 
mean  to  do  as  I  think  proper,"  retorted  the  no  less  strong- 
willed  mother. 

Sarah  was  not  cowed.  "  And  as  to  the  time  you  set,  I 
cannot  agree  to  it.  I  presume  that  in  this  matter  I  have 
some  voice.  I  say  six  months  instead  of  six  weeks  !" 

"  Very  well,  my  love."  Mrs.  Hunt  went  on  polishing  a 
tumbler  with  her  napkin.  She  always  washed  her  silver 
and  glass  herself.  "  You  must  settle  that  with  your  father 
and  Mr.  Hammond.  They  are  crazy  for  this  plan.  They 
were  talking  to  me  about  it  last  night,  and  I  told  them  that 
I  would  engage  to  have  every  thing  ready  in  time  ;  but  you 
must  be  consulted.  I  never  saw  your  father  more  set  upon 
any  thing.  He  said  to  me,  private,  that  he  did  hope  that 
you  wouldn't  raise  any  squeamish  objections,  and  upset  their 
arrangements." 

Mrs.  Hunt  took  up  a  handful  of  spoons  as  composedly  as 
if  she  had  never  stretched  her  conscience  in  her  life. 

Sarah's  head  drooped  upon  the  table.    She  was  very,  very 

miserable.     In  her  morbid  state  of  mind  she  did  not  dream 

of  questioning  the  accuracy  of  her  mother's  assertion.   That 

a  marriageable  single  daughter  was  a  burden  to  one  parent^ 

6* 


130  THE    EMPTY     HEART;     OR, 

Bhe  knew  but  too  well ;  that  to  this  able  financier  the  pros- 
pect of  getting  two  out  of  the  way,  with  the  6clat  of  a 
double  ceremony  that  should  cost  no  more  than  Lucy's 
nuptials  would  have  done,  was  a  stupendous  temptation,  she 
also  perceived.  But  that  the  father  whom  she  so  loved ; 
whose  sick-bed  she  had  tended  so  faithfully ;  whose  lonely 
hours  it  was  her  province  and  delight  to  solace — that  he 
should  acquiesce — nay,  more,  rejoice  in  this  indelicate  haste 
to  get  rid  of  her,  was  a  cruel  stab. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  raising  an  ashy  face.  "  Let  it  be 
as  you  say.  The  sooner  it  is  over,  the  better." 

This  clause  was  unheeded  by  her  mother  and  sister.  Had 
they  heard  it,  they  might  have  understood  it  as  little  as  they 
did  the  composure  with  which  she  joined  in  the  work  which 
was  begun,  without  an  hour's  delay.  In  this  trying  junc- 
ture, Mrs.  Hunt  came  out  in  all  her  strength.  Her  sewing- 
machine  (she  was  one  of  the  earliest  purchasers  of  these  in- 
estimable time,  labor,  and  money  savers)  went  night  and 
day ;  she  shopped  largely  and  judiciously,  giving  orders  to 
tradespeople  with  the  air  of  a  princess;  "Jewed"  her 
butcher  ;  watched  her  pantry,  and  served  up  poorer  dinners 
than  ever.  Jeannie's  winter  outfit  was  ingeniously  contrived 
from  her  sisters'  cast-off"  wardrobe;  Mr.  Hunt's  and  the 
boys'  shirts  and  socks  were  patched  and  darned  until  but  a 
trifling  quantity  of  the  original  material  remained ;  and  this 
pearl  of  mothers  had  her  two  year-old  cloak  and  last 
season's  hat  "done  over"  for  this  year's  wear. 

Foremost  among  the  visitors  to  the  Hunts,  after  this 
latest  engagement  was  made  public,  was  Mrs.  Marlow,  the 
wife  of  Mr.  Hammond's  benefactor  and  partner.  Sarah  was 
out  when  she  called ;  so  Mrs.  Hunt  received  her,  and  dis- 
covering very  soon  that,  in  spite  of  her  husband's  wealth 
and  her  splendid  establishment,  she  was  not,  as  Mrs.  Hunt 
phrased  it  to  her  daughters,  "  one  mite  proud,  and  thought 


HUSKR.  131 

the  world  and  all  of  Lewis" — the  mother  opened  her  heart 
to  her  so  freely,  with  regard  to  the  prospective  weddings 
and  her  maternal  anxieties,  that  Mrs.  Marlow  was  em- 
boldened to  introduce  a  subject  which  had  taken  hold  of 
her  thoughts  so  soon  as  she  heard  from  Mr.  Hammond  of 
his  expected  marriage. 

She  had  a  daughter,  resident  for  the  winter  in  Paris, 
whose  taste  in  female  attire  was  unquestionable,  and  her 
good-nature  as  praiseworthy.  If  Miss  Sarah  Hunt  would 
prepare  a  memorandum  of  such  articles  as  she  would  like 
to  have  selected  in  that  emporium  of  fashion,  she  would 
promise,  for  her  daughter,  that  they  should  be  forwarded 
in  time  for  "the  occasion." 

"  Some  friends  of  mine,  now  abroad,  have  kindly  offered 
to  bring  me  over  any  quantity  of  fine  dresses  with  their 
baggage,"  said  the  complaisant  old  lady ;  "  and,  as  I  do  not 
need  their  services  for  myself,  I  can  smuggle  in  whatever 
your  daughter  may  order.  You  would  be  surprised  at  the 
difference  in  prices  here  and  there — to  say  nothing  of  the 
superior  excellence  and  variety  of  the  assortment  from 
which  one  can  choose.  My  friends  will  return  early  in 
December.  Therefore,  should  you  like  this  arrange- 
ment, I  ought  to  have  the  list  and  write  my  letters  to- 
morrow." 

Energetic,  fussy,  snobbish  Mrs.  Hunt !  She  stood  an  inch 
taller  in  her  shoes  at  the  imagination  of  this  climax  to  the 
glory  of  the  dual  ceremony.  "  Trousseau  ordered  directly 
from  Paris  !"  She  seemed  already  to  hear  the  envious  and 
admiring  buzz  of  her  set ;  saw  herself  the  most  blessed  of 
women — her  daughters  the  brides  of  the  season.  She  would 
order  for  Lucy,  also  ;  for  the  longer  the  list  the  more  im- 
portance would  the  future  Mrs.  Hammond  acquire  in  the 
sight  of  her  husband's  friends.  They  could  not  know  that 
it  was  not  for  her  alone.  Then,  as  Mrs.  Marlow  intimated, 


l.°)2  THE    EMPTY     HEAUT;     OR, 

it  would  be  a  saving.  Here,  like  a  cold  shower-bath,  came 
the  agonizing  query — "  Where  was  the  money  to  come 
from  ?"  It  would  never  do  to  run  in  debt  to  such  people  as 
the  Marlows.  If  they  were  hard-pressed  shopkeepers,  who 
needed  the  money,  it  would  be  another  thing.  No!  the 
cash  in  hand,  or  its  representative,  must  accompany  tho 
memorandum. 

Sarah  was  secretly  pleased  at  this  obstacle,  for  she 
despised  the  ostentation  and  extravagance  going  on  in  their 
hungry  household.  Strive  as  she  did,  with  wicked  perti- 
nacity, to  conform  herself  to  the  world's  code,  there  was  as 
yet  too  much  of  the  ancient  and  better  leaven  left  to  permit 
more  than  an  outward  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  customs 
so  irrational  and  tyrannical. 

That  very  evening  there  arrived  a  letter  that  settled  the 
question,  and  inflated  Mrs.  Hunt's  collapsed  spirits  to  an 
expansion  hitherto  unequalled.  It  was  from  Aunt  Sarah  to 
her  namesake  niece ;  a  guileless,  fervent  expression  of  good 
wishes  and  unabated  affection,  and  a  request  from  "  hus- 
band" and  herself  that  she  would  accept  the  enclosure  as  a 
mark  of  that  hopeful  regard. 

"  Since  our  daughters  died" — wrote  this  true  and  gentle 
mother — "  we  have  always  intended  to  give  you  just  exactly 
what  we  would  have  done  one  of  them,  as  a  wedding- 
present — as  you  were  named  for  me,  and  I  had  nursed  you 
before  your  mother  ever  did,  and  you  seemed  in  some  way 
to  belong  to  us.  But  since  you  paid  us  a  visit  we  have  felt 
nearer  to  you  than  ever,  and  seeing  that  the  Lord  has  pros- 
pered us  in  this  world's  goods,  we  have  made  up  our  rninda 
to  give  you  a  double  portion,  dear,  what  both  of  our  girls 
would  have  had,  if  it  had  pleased  our  Father  to  spare  them 
to  have  homes  of  their  own  upon  earth.  Living  is  high  in 
New  York,  but  we  have  calculated  that  what  we  send  will 
buy  your  wedding-clothes  and  furnish  your  house." 


HUSKS.  133 

The  enclosed  gift,  to  Sarah's  astonishment,  was  a  check 
upon  a  city  bank  for  a  thousand  dollars ! 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  child  for  luck?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Hunt,  clapping  her  hands.  "  What  a  fortunate  thing  we 
sent  you  down  there  when  we  did !  That  was  one  of  my 
plans,  you  remember,  Mr.  H.  Really,  Lucy,  our  little  Sarah 
understands  how  to  play  her  cards,  after  all !  I  never  did 
you  justice,  rny  dear  daughter.  I  ain't  ashamed  to  confess 
it.  This  puts  all  straight,  and  is  real  handsome  in  sister 
Benson — more  than  I  expected.  Go  to  work  right  away 
upon  your  list,  girls  !  We'll  have  to  set  up  the  best  part  of 
the  night  to  get  it  ready.  Ah,  well!  this  comes  of  putting 
one's  trust  in  Providence  and  going  ahead !" 

Sarah  thought,  with  aching  heart  and  moistened  eyes,  of 
Aunt  Sarah's  mind-pictures  of  the  neat  apparel  and  snug 
dwelling  she  deemed  proper  for  a  young  couple  just  be- 
ginning house-keeping,  and  rebelled  at  this  waste,  this  frivo- 
lous expenditure  of  her  love-portion.  Mr.  Hunt  sided  with 
her,  so  far  as  to  urge  the  propriety  of  her  doing  as  she 
pleased  with  what  was  her  exclusive  property ;  but,  as  iu  a 
majority  of  former  altercations,  their  arguments  and  pov,  crs 
of  endurance  were  no  match  for  the  determination  and  n  jad 
of  the  real  head  of  the  family.  With  a  sigh  of  pain,  dis- 
gust, and  despair,  Mr.  Hunt  succumbed,  and,  deserted  by 
her  ally,  Sarah  contended  but  a  short  time  longer  ere  sha 
yielded  up  the  cause  of  the  combat  to  the  indomitable 
victress. 


134  THE    EMPTY    II  E  A  K  T  ;     OB, 


CHAPTER    X.  - 

TUB  bridal  day  came ;  frosty  and  clear,  dazzlingly  bright, 
by  reason  of  the  reflection  from  the  snow,  which  lay  deep 
and  firm  upon  the  ground. 

"  What  a  delightful  novelty  this  is,  coming  to  a  wedding 
in  a  sleigh !"  lisped  one  of  the  triad  of  bridesmaids,  who 
were  to  do  double  duty  for  the  sisters.  "  How  very 
gay  it  makes  one  to  hear  the  bells  outside !  Have  they 
come,  Vic.  ?" 

Victoria,  whose  marriage  was  blit  one  week  off,  was,  true  to 
instiuf  t  and  habit,  on  the  lookout  behind  the  friendly  curtain. 

She  nodded.  "  Yes — both  of  them,  but  not  together. 
What  a  magnificent  sleigh  that  is  of  the  Marlows !  They 
brought  Mr.  Hammond.  See  the  bridegrooms  shake  hauda 
on  the  sidewalk !  That  looks  so  sweet  and  brotherly !  They 
will  be  up  here  almost  directly,  I  suppose." 

The  attendants  immediately  began  to  shake  out  their 
robes  and  stroke  their  white  gloves.  They  were  collected 
in  the  sitting-room  so  often  mentioned,  and  the  sisters  were 
also  present.  In  accordance  with  the  ridiculous  custom  of 
very  parvenu  modern  marriages,  although  the  ceremony  was 
to  take  place  precisely  at  twelve  o'clock,  daylight  was  care- 
fully excluded  from  the  parlors  below,  gas  made  its  sickly . 
substitute,  and  the  whole  company  was  in  full  evening 
costume. 

"  Am  I  all  right  ?"  inquired  Lucy,  with  a  cautious  wave 
of  her  flowing  veil.  " Look  at  me,  Vic.!" 

**  You  are  perfect,  my  dearest!"  replied  the  devoted  para- 


HUSK  8.  135 

site.  "  How  I  admire  your  beautiful  self-possession !  And 
as  for  you,  Sarah,  your  calmness  is  wonderful !  I  fear  that 
I  should  be  terribly  agitated" — blushing,  and  casting  a 
meaning  smile  at  Lucy. 

Sarah's  statuesque  repose  was  broken  by  a  ray  of  scorn 
from  the  eye,  and  a  slight  disdainful  smile.  Whatever  were 
the  feelings  working  beneath  her  marble  mask,  she  was  not 
yet  reduced  to  the  depth  of  wretchedness  that  would 
humble  her  to  accept  the  insolent  pity  couched  under  the 
pretended  praise.  She  vouchsafed  no  other  reply  ;  but  re- 
mained standing  a  little  apart  from  the  rest ;  her  gloved 
hands  crossed  carelessly  before  her ;  her  gaze  bent  down- 
wards ;  her  whole  posture  that  of  one  who  neither  waited, 
nor  hoped,  nor  feared. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  that  she  could  be  made  such 
an  elegant-looking  woman  ?"  whispered  one  of  the  bride- 
maids  aside  to  another. 

"  She  has  actually  a  high-bred  air !  I  never  imagined  it 
was  in  her.  So  much  for  a  Parisian  toilette  !'* 

"  I  am  so  much  afraid  that  I  shall  lose  my  color  when  we 
enter  the  room,"  said  Lucy,  surveying  her  pink  cheeks  in 
the  mirror.  "  They  say  it  is  so  trying  to  the  nerves,  and  I 
am  odious  when  I  am  pale." 

"  Never  fear,  my  sweetest.  It  is  more  likely  that  the  un- 
avoidable excitement  will  improve  your  complexion.  There 
they  are  !"  returned  Victoria,  hurriedly,  and — unconsciously, 
no  doubt — the  three  attendants  and  one  of  the  principals  in 
the  forthcoming  transaction,  "  struck  an  attitude,"  as  the 
sound  of  footsteps  approached  the  door. 

Lucy  had  only  time  for  a  whisper — a  last  injunction — to 
her  faithful  crony.  "  Remember  to  see  that  my  veil  and 
dress  hang  right  when  we  get  down-stairs."  And  the  mas- 
culine portion  of  the  procession  marched  in  in  order. 

Sarah  did  not  look  up.     She  bent  her  head  as  the  formal 


136  THE  EMPTY  HEART;   OB, 

exchange  of  salutations  was  executed,  and  yielded  her  hand 
to  the  person  who  took  it  in  his  warm  pressure,  and  then 
transferred  it  to  his  arm.  It  was  one  of  the  freaks,  thus  de- 
nominated by  her  acquaintances,  in  which  she  had  been  in- 
dulged, that  she  desired  to  have  her  marriage  ceremony  pre- 
cede her  sister's.  She  assigned  what  Lucy  at  least  consid- 
ered a  sufficient  reason  for  this  caprice. 

u  Nobody  will  care  to  look  at  me  after  you  stand  aside, 
Lucy.  Keep  the  best  wine  until  the  last.  My  only  chance 
of  getting  an  approving  glance  lies  in  going  in  before  you 
attract  and  fix  the  public  gaze." 

She  had  her  way.  A  limited  number  of  select  friends 
were  admitted  to  behold  "  the  ceremony ;"  yet  the  parlors 
were  comfortably  filled,  excepting  in  the  magical  semicircle 
described  by  an  invisible  line,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood 
the  clergyman  in  his  robes. 

Still  dull  and  calm,  Sarah  went  through  the  brief  role  that 
fell  to  her  share.  "  Behaved  charmingly,"  was  the  unani- 
mous verdict  of  the  beholders,  and  surprised  other  people,  as 
well  as  the  complimentary  bridemaid,  by  her  thorough-bred 
air  and  Parisian  toilet.  Without  the  pause  of  a  second,  so 
perfect  was  the  drill  of  the  performers,  the  wedded  pair 
stepped  aside,  and  made  way  for  the  second  happy  couple. 
Lucy's  solicitude  on  the  score  of  her  complexion  was  needless. 
As  the  solemn  words  were  commenced,  a  rosy  blush  flickered 
up  to  its  appointed  resting-place — another  and  another — until, 
when  Philip  released  her  to  the  congratulatory  throng,  she 
was  the  most  enchanting  type  of  a  radiant  Hebe  that  poet 
ever  sang,  or  painter  burned  to  immortalize  on  canvas. 

Philip  stood  beside  her  and  sustained  his  portion  of  the 
hand-shaking  and  felicitations  until  the  press  diminished, 
then  stepped  hastily  over  to  where  Hammond  and  his  bride 
were  undergoing  a  similar  martyrdom.  Until  this  moment 
Sarah  had  not  looked  at,  or  spoken  to  him — had  never  met 


HUSKS.  137 

him  face  to  face  since  their  parting  in  the  summer  at  Aunt 
Sarah's.  Now,  not  aware  who  it  was  that  approached  her 
she  raised  her  eyes  with  the  serious  dignity  with  which  she 
had  received  all  other  salutations,  and  met  his  downward 
gaze — full  of  warm  and  honest  feeling. 

"  Sister !"  he  said,  and  in  brotherly  fondness  he  bent  to- 
wards her,  and  left  a  kiss  upon  her  mouth. 

A  hot  glow,  the  lurid  red  of  offended  modesty  or  self-con- 
victed guilt,  overspread  her  face ;  the  lips  parted,  quivered, 
and  closed  tightly,  after  an  ineffectual  effort  to  articulate  ;  the 
room  swam  around  her,  and  Mr.  Hammond  caught  her  just 
in  time  to  save  her  from  falling.  It  was  Nature's  vengeful 
reaction  for  the  long  and  unnatural  strain  upon  her  energies. 
She  did  not  faint  entirely  away,  although  several  moments 
elapsed  before  she  regained  perfect  consciousness  of  her  sit- 
uation and  surrounding  objects.  She  had  been  placed  in  an 
easy-chair;  her  head  rested  against  her  father's  shoulder, 
and  011  the  other  side  stood  Lewis,  almost  as  pale  as  herself, 
holding  a  glass  of  wine  to  her  lips.  Around  her  were 
grouped  her  mother,  Lucy,  and  Philip.  The  guests  had 
withdrawn  politely  to  the  background,  and  maintained  a  re- 
spectful silence. 

"  What  have  I  betrayed  ?"  was  her  first  coherent  reflec- 
tion ;  and,  with  an  instinctive  perception  of  the  quarter 
where  such  disclosures  would  do  most  harm,  her  eye  turned 
with  a  sort  of  appealing  terror  to  Lewis.  His  heart  leaped 
at  the  movement,  revealing,  as  he  fancied  it  did,  dependence 
upon  his  strength,  recognition  of  his  right  to  be  with  and 
nearest  to  her. 

"  You  are  better,"  he  said,  with  a  moved  tenderness  he 
could  not  and  cared  not  to  restrain. 

Tli-3  words,  the  manner,  were  an  inexpressible  relief  to  her 
fears,  and  trying  to  return  his  smile,  she  would  have  arisen 
but  for  her  father's  interposition. 


138  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OB, 

"  Sit  still,"  he  advised.  "  Mrs.  Hunt,  Lucy,  Mr.  Benson, 
will  you  entertain  our  friends  ?  She  will  be  all  right  in  a 
little  while,  Mr,  Hammond." 

"  Tableaux  vivants  /"  said  Lucy's  soft,  rich  voice,  as  she 
advanced  towards  the  reassured  guests.  "  This  is  a  part  of 
the  performance  not  set  down  in  the  programme.  Quite 
theatrical,  was  it  not  ?" 

It  is  very  possible  that  Philip  Benson  would  not  have  re- 
garded this  as  an  apropos  or  refined  witticism,  had  any  one 
else  been  the  speaker ;  but  as  the  round,  liquid  tones  rolled 
it  forth,  and  her  delicious  laugh  led  off  the  instant  revival  at. 
mirth  and  badinage,  he  marvelled  at  her  consummate  tact,  hei 
happy  play  of  fancy  (!),  and  returned  devout  thanks  to  the 
stars  that  had  bestowed  upon  him  this  prodigy  of  grace,  wit, 
and  beauty.  Sarah  rallied  speedily ;  and,  contrary  to  the 
advice  of  her  father  and  husband,  maintained  her  post  in 
the  drawing-room  during  all  the  reception,  which  contin- 
ued from  half-past  twelve  to  half-past  two. 

It  was  a  gay  and  shifting  scene — a  sparkling,  murmuring 
tide,  that  ebbed  and  flowed  to  and  from  the  quartette  who 
formed  the  attractive  power.  Silks,  laces,  velvets,  furs,  and 
diamonds;  faces  young,  old,  and  middle-aged;  handsome, 
fair,  and  homely ;  all  decked  in  the  same  conventional  holi- 
day smile  ;  bodies  tall  and  short,  executing  every  variety  of 
bow  and  courtesy  ;  voices  sweet,  sharp,  and  guttural,  utter- 
ing the  senseless  formula  of  congratulation — these  were 
Sarah's  impressions  of  the  tedious  ceremonial.  Restored  to 
her  rigid  composure,  she  too  bowed  and  spoke  the  word  or 
sentence  custom  exacted — an  emotionless  automaton  in 
seeming,  while  Lucy's  matchless  inflections  lent  interest  ancj 
beauty  to  the  like  nothings,  as  she  rehearsed  them  in  her 
turn ;  and  Philip  Benson,  having  no  solicitude  for  his  bride's 
health  or  ability  to  endure  the  fatigue,  was  collected  enough 
to  compare  the  two,  and,  while  exulting  in  his  selection,  to 


HUSKS.  1 39 

commiserate  the  proprietor  of  the  colder  and  less  gifted 
Bister. 

At  last  the  trial  was  over ;  the  hospitable  mansion  wag 
closed  ;  the  parlors  deserted ;  the  preparations  for  travelling 
hurried  through ;  and  the  daughters  went  forth  from  their 
girlhood's  home.  Philip  had  cordially  invited  Sarah  ani 
Lewis,  by  letter,  to  accompany  Lucy  and  himself  to  Georgia 
but  Sarah  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  Lewis,  while  he  left  the 
decision  to  her,  was  not  sorry  that  she  preferred  to  jour- 
ney instead  with  him  alone.  It  was  too  cold  to  go  north- 
ward, and  the  Hammonds  now  proposed  to  proceed  with 
the  others  as  far  as  Baltimore,  there  to  diverge  upon  a 
Western  and  Southern  tour,  which  was  to  occupy  three 
weeks,  perhaps  four. 


140  THE  EMPTY  HEART:    OR, 


CHAPTER    XI. 

DURING  the  month  preceding  his  marriage,  Lewis  Ham- 
mond had  spent  nmch  time  and  many  thoughts  in  providing 
and  furnishing  a  house  for  his  wife.  His  coadjutor  in  this 
labor  of  love  wras  not,  as  one  might  have  expected,  Mrs.  Hunt, 
but  his  early  friend,  Mrs.  Marlow.  His  omission  of  his  fu- 
ture mother-in-law,  in  his  committee  of  consultation,  he  ex- 
plained to  her  by  representing  the  number  of  duties  already 
pressing  upon  her,  and  bis  unwillingness  to  add  aught  to 
their  weight.  But  when  both  girls  were  married  and  gone, 
and  the  work  of  "  getting  to  rights"  was  all  over,  this  inde- 
fatigable woman  paid  Mrs.  Marlow  a  visit,  and  offered  her 
assistance  in  completing  the  arrangements  for  the  young 
housekeepers. 

"  There  is  nothing  for  us  to  do,"  said  Mrs.  Marlow. 
"  Lewis  attended  to  the  purchase  of  every  thing  before  leav- 
ing ;  and  the  orders  are  all  in  the  hands  of  a  competent 
upholsterer  whom  he  has  employed,  as  is  also  the  key  of  the 
house.  I  offered  to  have  the  house-cleaning  done,  but 
Lewis  refused  to  let  me  help  him  even  in  this.  He  is  very 
methodical,  and  rather  strict  in  some  of  his  ideas.  When 
the  premises  are  pronounced  ready  for  the  occupancy  of  the 
future  residents,  you  and  I  will  play  inspectors,  and  find  as 
much  fault  as  we  can." 

Mrs.  Hunt  went  around  by  the  house  on  her  way  home. 
It  was  new  and  handsome,  a  brown  stone  front,  with  stone 
balconies  and  balustrades ;  but  three  stories  high,  it  was 
true,  yet  of  ample  width  and  pitch  of  ceiling,  and — as  she 


HTJSKS.  141 

discovered  by  skirting  t^  square — at  least  three  rooms  deep 
all  tl>e  way  up.  The  location  was  unobjectionable;  not 
more  than  four  blocks  from  the  paternal  residence,  and  in  a 
wider  street.  On  the  whole,  ohe  had  no  fault  to  find,  pro- 
vided Mr.  Hammond  had  furnished  it  iu  such  style  as  she 
would  have  recommended.  She  had  her  fears  lest  his  sober 
taste  in  other  respects  should  extend  to  these  matters,  and 
hinted  something  of  the  kind  to  hor  husband. 

"  I  have  confidence  in  Mr.  Hammond  to  believe  that  ha 
>vill  allow  his  wife  every  indulgence  compatible  with  his 
means,"  was  the  reply. 

Mr.  Hunt  did  not  deem  it  obligatory  upon  him  to  state  that 
his  son-in-law  had  conferred  with  him  upoii  numerous  ques- 
tions pertaining  to  Sarah's  likes  and  probable  wishes  ;  that  he 
had  examined  and  approved  of  the  entire  collection  of  furni- 
ture, etc.,  selected  for  her  use.  Why  should  he,  how  could 
he,  without  engendering  in  his  wife's  bosom  th«  suspicion 
that  had  accounted  to  him  for  Lewis's  choice  of  the  father 
as  an  adviser  ?  namely,  that  the  newly-made  husband  had 
gained  a  pretty  correct  estimate  of  this  managing  lady's 
character,  her  penny-wise  and  pound-foolish  policy,  and  in- 
tended to  inaugurate  altogether  a  different  one  in  his  bouse. 

Regardless  of  Mrs.  Marlow's  polite  insinuation  that  their 
room  was  preferable  to  their  company  until  all  things  should 
be  in  readiness  for  inspection,  the  ambitious  mother  made 
sundry  visits  to  the  premises  while  they  were  being  fitted 
up,  and  delivered  herself  of  divers  suggestions  and  reconr 
inundations,  which  fell  like  sand  on  a  rock  upon  the  presid 
ing  man  of  business. 

On  the  day  appointed  for  the  tourists'  return,  Mrs.  Mar 
low's  carriage  drew  up  at  Mr.  Hunt's  door,  by  appointment, 
to  take  the  mistress  of  the  house  upon  the  proposed  visit  oi 
criticism  of  her  daughter's  establishment.  Mrs.  Marlow 
'was  in  a  sunny  mood,  and  indisposed  to  censure,  as  was 


142  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

evinced  by  ejaculations  of  pleasure  at  the  general  effect  of 
each  apartment  as  they  entered,  and  praise  of  its  component 
parts.  Mrs.  Hunt  was  not  so  undiscriminating.  The  mil- 
lionnaire's  wife  must  not  imagine  that  she  was  dazzled  by 
any  show  of  elegance,  or  that  she  was  overjoyed  at  the 
prospect  of  her  child's  having  so  beautiful  and  commodiou 
a  home. 

"  The  everlasting  oak  and  green !"  she  uttered,  as  they 
reached  the  dining-room.  "  It  is  a  pity  Mr.  Hammond  did 
not  select  walnut  and  crimson  instead !  Green  is  very  un- 
becoming to  Sarah." 

"  Then  we  must  impress  upon  her  the  importance  of  cul- 
tivating healthy  roses  in  her  cheeks,  and  wearing  bright 
warm  colors.  This  combination — green  and  oak — is  pretty 
and  serviceable,  I  think.  The  table  is  very  neatly  set, 
Mary,"  continued  Mrs.  Marlow,  kindly,  to  the  tidy  serving- 
maid.  "  Keep  an  eye  on  the  silver,  my  good  girl,  until  your 
mistress  comes.  Mrs.  Hunt,  shall  we  peep  into  the  china- 
closets  before  we  go  to  the  kitchen?  I  have  taken  the 
liberty,  at  Lewis's  request,  of  offering  to  your  daughter  the 
services  of  a  couple  of  my  protegees,  excellent  servants, 
who  lived  for  years  with  one  of  my  own  children — Mrs. 
Morland,  now  in  Paris.  They  are  honest,  willing,  and,  I 
think,  competent.  The  man-servant,  if  Lewis  sees  fit  to 
keep  one,  he  must  procure  himself." 

The  china,  glass,  and  pantries  were  in  capital  order; 
the  kitchen  well  stocked,  light,  and  clean,  and  dinner  over 
the  fire. 

"  You  will  be  punctual  to  the  minute,  Katy,  please !"  was 
the  warning  here.  "  Mr.  Hammond  is  particular  in  the 
matter  of  time." 

"  And  you  will  see  that  my  daughter  has  a  cup  of  clear, 
strong  coffee !"  ordered  Mrs.  Hunt,  magisterially.  "  She  is 
delicate,  and  accustomed  to  the  very  best  of  cookery." 


HUSKS.  143 

And,  having  demonstrated  her  importance  and  superior 
housewifery  to  the  round-eyed  cook,  she  swept  out. 

To  an  unprejudiced  eye,  the  whole  establishment  was 
without  a  flaw ;  and,  undisturbed,  by  the  captious  objections 
of  her  companion  in  the  survey,  Mrs.  Marlow  saw  and 
judged  for  herself,  and  carried  home  with  her  a  most  pleas- 
ing imagination  of  Lewis's  gratification,  and  Sarah's  de- 
lighted surprise  with  the  scene  that  was  to  close  their  day 
of  cold  and  weariness. 

By  Mr.  Hammond's  expressed  desire  to  his  father-in-tew, 
there  was  no  one  except  the  domestics  in  the  house  when 
they  arrived.  As  the  carriage  stopped,  the  listening  maid 
opened  the  door,  and  a  stream  of  radiance  shot  into  the 
misty  night  across  the  wet  pavement  upon  the  two  figures 
that  stepped  from  the  conveyance. 

"  In  happy  homes  he  sees  the  light."  The  mental  quota 
tion  brought  back  to  Sarah  the  vision  of  that  lonely  evening, 
ten  months  before,  when  she  had  moaned  it  in  her  dreary 
twilight  musings  at  the  window  of  her  little  room. 
"  Dreary  then,  hopeless  now !"  and  with  this  voiceless  sigh, 
she  crossed  the  threshold  of  her  destined  abode.  With  a 
kindly  greeting  to  the  servants  in  the  hall,  Lewis  hurried 
his  wife  onward,  past  the  parlor  doors,  into  a  library  sitting- 
room,  back  of  the  show  apartments,  warm  and  bright, 
smiling  a  very  home  welcome. 

Here  he  placed  her  in  a  deep  cushioned  chair,  and,  press- 
ing her  hands  in  his,  kissed  her,  with  a  heartfelt — "  May 
you  be  very  happy  in  our  home,  dear  wife !" 

"Thank  you!"  she  replied.  "It  is  pleasant  here,  and 
you  are  too  kind." 

"  That  is  impossible  where  you  are  concerned.  Sit  here, 
while  I  see  to  the  trunks.  When  they  are  carried  up- 
stairs, you  can  go  to  your  room.  Throw  off  your  hat  and 
cloak." 


144  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

He  was  very  thoughtful  of  her  comfort — too  thoughtful^ 
because  his  love  made  him  watchful  of  her  every  look, 
word,  and  gesture.  She  was  glad  of  the  brief  respite  from 
this  vigilance,  that  allowed  her  to  bury  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  groan  aloud.  She  had  no  heart  to  look  around  her 
cage.  No  doubt  it  was  luxurious;  the  bars  softly  and 
richly  lined ;  the  various  arrangements  the  best  of  their 
kind;  still,  it  was  nothing  but  a  cage — a  prison,  from  which 
death  only  could  release  her. 

The  trim  maid  came  for  her  wrappings,  and  directly 
afterwards  Lewis,  to  take  her  up-stairs. 

"  Not  a  very  elaborate  toilet,  dear,"  he  said,  as  he  left 
her  for  his  dressing-room.  "  You  will  see  no  one  this  even- 
ing but  our  father  and  mother,  and  they  will  remember 
that  you  have  been  travelling  all  day." 

"When  she  was  ready,  it  lacked  still  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
of  dinner-time,  and  she  acceded  to  Lewis's  proposal  that 
they  should  go  over  their  dwelling.  By  his  order,  there 
were  lights  in  every  room.  The  graceful  furniture,  the 
well-contrasted  hues  of  the  soft  carpets,  the  curtains  and 
pictures  showed  to  fine  advantage.  Every  thing  was  in 
place,  from  cellar  to  attic ;  not  a  symptom  of  parsimony  or 
cheapness  in  the  whole ;  and  all  betokened,  besides  excellent 
judgment,  such  conformity  to,  or  unison  with  her  taste, 
that  Sarah,  with  all  her  heaviness  of  heart,  was  pleased. 
She  was  touched  too  with  gratitude  or  remorse ;  for,  when 
they  were  back  in  the  cozy  sitting-room,  she  laid  her  hand 
timidly  on  that  of  her  husband,  and  said,  falteringly : 

"  I  do  not  deserve  that  you  should  take  so  much  pains  to 
gratify  me,  Mr.  Hammond.''' 

Over  Lewis's  face  there  flushed  one  of  the  rare  smiles 
that  made  him  positively  handsome  while  they  lasted.  He 
grasped  the  shrinking  fingers  firmly,  and  drew  his  wife 
close  to  his  side. 


H  U  S  K  8  .  145 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  how  to  repay  me  for  all  that  I  have 
done,  or  ever  can  do,  to  promote  your  ease  and  enjoy- 
ment ?" 

"If  you  please."  But  her  heart  sank,  as  she  foresaw 
some  demands  upon  a  love  that  had  never  existed — a  treas- 
ury that,  to  him,  was  sealed  and  empty ;  yet  whose  pov- 
erty she  dared  not  avow. 

"  Call  me  '  Lewis,'  now  that  we  are  at  home,  dear.  I 
cannot  realize  that  you  are  indeed  all  mine — that  our  lives 
are  one  and  the  same,  while  you  continue  that  very  proper 
'Mr.  Hammond.'  " 

"It  comes  more  naturally  to  my  tongue,  and  don't  you 
think  it  more  respectful  than — than — the  other?" 

"  I  ask  no  such  form  of  respect  from  you.  I  do  not  fear 
lest  you  should  fail  to  'honor  and  obey'  me,  you  little 
paragon  of  duty !  Believe  me,  dearest,  I  fully  understand 
and  reverence  the  modest  reserve,  that  has  not  yet  ceased 
to  be  shyness,  in  the  expression  of  your  sentiments  towards 
me.  You  are  not  demonstrative  hy  nature.  Neither  am  I. 
But  since  you  are  my  other  self,  and  there  is  no  living  bekig 
nearer  to  you  than  myself,  ought  we  not  to  overcome  this 
propensity  to,  or  custom  of,  locking  up  our  feelings  in  our 
own  breasts?  Let  me  begin  by  a  confession  of  one  un- 
comfortable complaint,  under  which  I  have  labored  ever 
since  our  engagement.  Do  you  know,  darling,  that  I  abso- 
lutely hunger — I  cannot  give  any  other  name  to  the  long- 
ing— I  hunger  and  thirst  to  hear  you  say  that  you  love 
me !  Do  you  remember  that  you  have  never  told  me  in  so 
many  words  what  you  have  given  me  other  good  reasons 
for  believing?  I  need  but  one  thing  this  evening  to  fill  my 
cup  with  purest  content.  It  is  to  have  you  say — openly, 
fearlessly,  as  my  wife  has  a  right  to  do — 'Lewis,  I  love 
you!"' 

"  It  need  be  a  source  of  no  unhappiness  to  be  married  to 


146  THE  EMPTY  HEABT;    OH, 

a  man  whom  one  does  not  love,  provided  he  is  kind  and 
generous!"  say  match-makers  and  worldly-wise  mothers. 
Perhaps  not,  after  one's  conscience  is  seared  into  callosity 
by  perjuries,  and  her  forehead  grown  bold  as  brass ;  but 
the  neophyte  in  the  laudable  work  of  adaptation  to  such  cir 
cumstances  will  trip  in  her  words  and  color  awkwardly 
while  acquiring  this  enviable  hardihood. 

Sarah's  head  fell,  and  her  face  was  stained  with  blushes. 
One  wild  impulse  was  to  throw  herself  at  the  feet  of  him 
whom  she  had  wronged  so  foully,  and,  confessing  her  mad, 
wicked  deception  upon  his  holiest  feelings,  pray  him  to  send 
her  away — to  cast  her  adrift,  and  rid  himself  of  a  curse, 
while  he  freed  her  from  the  gentle,  yet  intolerable  bondage 
of  his  love. 

"Dinner  is  ready!"  announced  the  servant.  Sarah'a 
senses  returned,  and  with  them  self-control.  With  a  strange 
smile,  she  glanced  up  at  him — a  look  he  did  not  under- 
stand, yet  could  not  guess  was  born  of  anguish — and  said, 
with  a  hesitation  that  seemed  pretty  and  coquettish  to 
him — "  Leiois  I  do  you  hear  ?  May  it  please  your  worship. 
I  am  very  hungry !" 

"  Tease !  I  will  have  my  revenge  yet !  See  if  I  dc 
not !" 

Laughing  lightly,  she  eluded  his  outstretched  arm,  and 
sprang  past  him  into  the  hall  leading  to  the  dining-room. 
She  assumed  the  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table  with  a  burlesque 
of  dignity,  and  throughout  the  meal  was  more  talkative 
and  frolicsome  than  he  had  ever  seen  her  before.  So  cap- 
tivated was  he  by  her  lively  discourse  and  bright  looks, 
that  he  was  sorry  to  hear  the  ring,  proclaiming  the  coming 
of  the  expected  visitors.  The  dessert  had  not  been  re- 
moved, and  the  girl  was  instructed  to  show  them  imme- 
diately into  the  dining-room. 

A  toast  was  drunk  to  the  prosperity  of  the  lately  es- 


147 


tablished  household,  and  the  gentlemen  went  off  to  the 
library. 

"  Always  see  to  putting  away  your  silver,  Sarah !"  coun- 
selled the  mother.  "  And  you  had  ought  to  get  a  common 
set  of  dinner  and  breakfast  things.  This  china  is  too  nice 
for  every-day  use.  Of  course,  Mr.  Hammond  can  afford  to 
get  more  when  this  is  broken  ;  but  it's  a  first-rate  rule,  child, 
as  you'll  find,  to  put  your  money  where  it  will  show  most. 
That's  the  secret  of  my  management.  Mr.  Hammond  must 
give  you  an  allowance  for  housekeeping  and  pin-money. 
Speak  to  him  about  it  right  away.  Men  are  more  liberal 
while  the  honeymoon  lasts  than  they  ever  are  afterwards. 
Strike  While  the  iron  is  hot.  You  can't  complain  of  your 
husband,  so  far.  He  has  set  you  up  very  handsome.  If  I 
had  been  consulted  about  furnishing,  I  would  have  saved 
enough  off  of  those  third'-story  chambers  and  the  kitchen  to 
buy  another  pair  of  mirrors  for  your  parlors.  The  mantels 
has  a  bare  look.  I  noticed  it  directly  I  went  in.  To  be 
sure,  the  Parian  ornaments  are  pretty  and  tasty,  and  expen- 
sive enough — dear  knows  1  but  they  don't  make  much  of  a 
display." 

"  I  do  not  like  the  fashion  of  lining  walls  with  mirrors," 
said  Sarah,  in  her  old,  short  way ;  "  and  am  satisfied  with 
the  house  as  it  is.  Shall  we  join  the  gentlemen  ?" 

Nothing  had  ever  showed  her  mo-re  plainly  the  degrada- 
tion of  her  false  position  than  the  confident  air  her  mother 
wore  in  making  her  coarse  observations,  and  instructing  her 
as  to  the  method  of  managing  her  generous,  confiding  hus- 
band. It  was  the  free-masonry  of  a  mercenary  wife,  whose 
spou.se  would  have  been  better  represented  to  her  mind  by 
his  money-bag  than  his  own  pi'oper  person,  towards  another 
of  the  same  craft,  who  rated  her  lawful  banker  by  corre- 
sponding rules. 

"  Will  I  then  really  grow  to  be  like  her  and  her  associ- 


148  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OB, 

ates  ?"  Sarah  questioned  inly.  "  Will  a  fine  bouse  and  its 
fixtures,  will  dress  and  equipage  and  pin-mouey  so  increase 
in  importance  as  to  fill  this  aching  vacuum  in  my  heart  ? 
Will  a  position  in  life,  and  the  envy  of  my  neighbors,  make 
up  to  me  for  the  loss  of  the  love  of  which  I  used  to  dream, 
the  happiness  which  the  world  owes  me  yet  ?  Is  this  the 
coin  in  which  it  would  redeem  its  promises  ?" 

Mr.  Hunt's  mild  features  wore  their  happiest  expression 
this  evening.  He  arose  at  the  ladies'  entrance,  and  beckon- 
ed his  daughter  to  a  seat  on  the  sofa  beside  him. 

"  You  are  a  little  travel-worn  I"  he  said.  "  Your  cheeks 
ai*e  not  very  ruddy." 

"Did  you  ever  see  them  when  they  were?"  asked  Sarah, 
playfully. 

"  She  was  always  just  that  pale  when  she  was  a  baby," 
said  Mi  s.  Hunt,  setting  herself  in  the  arm-chair  proffered  by 
her  son-in  law.  "  Lucy  stole  all  the  roses  from  her."  Sarah 
may  have  thought  that  other  and  more  grievous  thefts  had 
succeeded  this  doubtful  one,  but  she  neither  looked  nor  said 
this.  "And  that  reminds  me,  Mr.  H. !  Did  you  bring 
Lucy's  letter  for  Sarah  to  read  ?" 

"  I  did."  Mr.  Hunt  produced  it.  "  Keep  it,  and  read  it 
at  your  leisure,  Sarah." 

"  They  are  supremely  happy,  I  suppose  ?"  remarked  Lewis, 
with  the  benevolent  interest  incident  to  his  fellowship  of 
feeling  with  them. 

"For  all  the  world  like  two  turtle-doves!"  Mrs.  Hunt 
rejoined.  "  Their  letters  are  a  curiosity.  It  is  '  Phil.'  and 
'  Lucy'  from  one  end  to  the  other.  I  mean  to  save  them  to 
show  to  them  five  years  from  now.  Hot  love  is  soon  cool, 
and  by  and  by  they  will  settle  down  as  sensible  as  any  of 
the  rest  of  us.  You  don't  begin  so,  I  see,  Sarah,  and  I  am 
pleased  at  it.  Between  me  and  you,  it's  two-thirds  of  it 
humbug!  There  is  Victoria  West-  that  was!  She  looks 


HUSKS.  149 

ready,  in  company,  to  eat  up  that  .ean  monkey  of  a  George 
Bond.  I  don't  believe  but  she  shows  him  the  other  side  of 
the  pictures  in  private." 

Sarah  heard  her  father's  suppressed  sigh,,  and  felt,  without 
looking  up,  that  her  husband's  eyes  sought  hers  wistfully. 
The  unobservant  dame  pursued  her  free  and  easy  discourse. 
Mr.  Hammond  was  "  one  of  the  family"  now,  and  there  was 
no  more  occasion  for  choice  grammar  or  fine  sentiments 
before  him. 

"  Not  that  I  blame  Victoria  for  taking  him.  He  was  a 
good  offer,  and  she  wasn't  much  admired  by  the  gentle- 
men— rich  as  Mr.  West  is.  Mr.  Bond  is  twenty-five  years 
older  than  she  is,  and  wears  false  teeth  and  a  toupee ;  but  I 
suppose  she  is  willing  to  overlook  trifles.  She  watches  out 
for  the  main  chance,  and  will  help  him  take  care  of  his 
money,  as  well  as  spend  it.  Vic.  is  a  prudent  girl." 

"  Lucy — Mrs.  Benson — was  at  home  when  she  wrote,  was 
she  not  ?"  interrogated  Mr.  Hammond. 

"  Yes,  at  his  father's.  His  mother  keeps  house,  and  Lucy 
has  nothing  to  do  but  ride,  visit,  and  entertain  company. 
She  says  the  house  is  crowded  the  whole  time,  and  she  has 
so  many  beaux  that  Philip  stands  no  chance  of  speaking  a 
word  to  her.  She  is  perfectly  happy." 

Notwithstanding  the  various  feelings  of  the  listeners,  none 
of  them  could  resist  this  picture  of  a  felicitous  honeymoon, 
so  naively  spoken.  Lewis's  laugh  cleared  the  vapors  from 
his  brow,  and  the  pain  at  Sarah's  heart  did  not  hinder  her 
from  joining  in. 

"  And  the  ousted  bridegroom,  perforce,  seeks  consolation 
in  the  society  of  his  fair  friends  ?"  said  Lewis.  "  If  this  is 
the  way  young  married  people  show  the  love-sickness  you 
complained  of  just  now,  Mrs.  Hunt,  I  am  content  with  our 
more  staid  ways — eh,  Sarah  ?" 

"  Quiet  ways  suit  me  best,"  was  the  answer. 


150  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OK, 

"'Still  water  runs  deep,'"  quoted  Mrs.  Hunt.  "I  used 
to  worry  over  your  stay-at-home  habits  and  eternal  study 
of  books,  Sarah ;  but  I'm  ready  to  say  now  that  you  was 
aensible  to  behave  as  you  did,  as  it  has  turned  out.  I  don't 
mean  to  flatter  Mr.  Hammond,  but  I'd  ten  times  rather 
you  had  taken  him  than  a  dried-up  widower  like  George 
Bond." 

"  Thank  you !"  bowed  Lewis,  desirous  of  diverting  atten- 
tion from  Sarah's  growing  uneasiness  beneath  her  mother's 
congratulations. 

Mrs.  Hunt  held  on  her  way.  "I  never  had  a  fear  lest 
Lucy  shouldn't  marry  well.  She  was  pretty  and  attractive, 
and  knew  too  much  about  the  world  to  throw  herself  away 
for  the  sake  of  love  iii  a  cottage.  But  now  the  danger  is 
over,  I  will  allow  that  I  used  to  mistrust  Sarah  here  some- 
times. You  was  just  queer  enough  to  fall  in  love  with  some 
adventurer  with  a  foreign  name,  and  never  a  cent  in  his 
pocket — yes,  and  marry  him,  too,  in  spite  of  all  that  could 
be  said  and  done  to  prevent  it.  I  was  forever  in  a  '  feaze' 
about  you ;  fancying  that  you  was  born  to  make  an  out-and- 
out  love-match — the  silliest  thing  a  girl  can  do,  in  my 
opinion." 

"  You  never  dreamed  of  her  '  taking  up,'  as  the  phrase  is, 
with  a  humdrum  individual  like  myself,"  said  Lewis.  "  Nor, 
to  be  candid,  did  I,  for  a  long  time,  Mrs.  Hunt.  Yet  I  can- 
not say  that  I  regret  her  action,  disadvantageous  to  herself 
though  it  was.  I  wrote  to  you  of  our  visit  to  New  Orleans, 
did  I  not,  sir  ?"  he  continued  to  Mr.  Hunt,  inwardly  a  little 
disgusted  by  the  frank  revelations  his  niaimna-in-law  was 
making  of  her  principles  and  plans. 

The  subject  so  interesting  to  most  wedded  people,  so  em- 
barrassing to  one  of  the  present  party,  was  not  again  intro- 
luced  during  the  elder  couple's  stay.  When  Lowis  returned 
to  the  library,  after  seeing  them  out,  Sarah  sat  where  he 


HUSKS.  151 

had  left  her,  her  hand  shading  her  eyes — deep  in  thought, 
or  Overcome  by  weariness. 

"  You  had  better  go  up  to  your  room,  dear,"  said  Lewis, 
"  I  wonder  you  are  not  worn  out  completely." 

She  arose  to  obey ;  walked  as  far  as  the  door,  then  came 
hack  to  him. 

"  It  may  appear  strange  to  you  that  I  should  speak  openly 
of  such  a  suspicion  ;  but  I  must  beg  you  not  to  suppose  for 
an  instant  that  in  my  acceptance  of  your  offer  of  marriage, 
I  was  actuated  by  mercenary  motives.  You  look  sur- 
prised"— she  hurried  on  yet  faster  while  her  resolution 
lasted — "but  I  could  not  rest  without  doing  myself  this  act 
of  justice.  Much  that  mother  said  to-night  might — must 
have  led  you  to  this  conclusion.  I  would  not  have  you 
think  worse  of  me  than  I  deserve,  and  of  this  one  act  of 
baseness  I  am  innocent." 

"  My  precious  little  wife,  how  excited  you  are !  and  over 
what  a  nonsensical  imagination !  Suspect  you — the  noblest 
as  well  as  the  dearest  of  women — of  selling  yourself,  body 
and  soul,  for  money?  Listen  to  my  speech  now,  dear 
Sarah !" 

He  sat  down  and  pulled  her  to  his  knee.  "I  esteem  you, 
as  I  love  you,  above  all  the  rest  of  your  sex — above  any 
other  created  mortal.  I  know  you  to  be  a  pure,  high-minded 
woman.  When  I  part  with  this  persuasion,  may  I  part  also 
with  the  life  that  doubt  on  this  point  would  render  wretch- 
ed !  Judge,  then,  whether  it  be  possible  for  me  to  link  this 
holy  realization  of  womanhood  with  the  thought  of  another 
character,  which  I  will  describe.  I  hold  that  she  wh( 
enters  the  hallowed  state  of  wedlock  through  motives  of 
pecuniary  interest,  or  ambition,  or  convenience — indeed, 
through  any  consideration  save  that  of  love,  single  and 
entire,  for  him  to  whom  she  pledges  her  vows,  stands,  in  the 
sight  of  her  Maker  and  the  angels,  on  a  level  with  the  most 


152  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

abandoned  outcast  that  pollutes  the  earth  she  treads.  I 
shock  you,  I  see ;  but  on  this  subject  I  feel  strongly.  I 
have  seen  much,  too  much,  of  fashionable  marriages  formed 
.for  worldly  aggrandizement — for  riches ;  sometimes  in  pique 
at  having  lost  a  coveted  lover.  With  my  peculiar  senti- 
ments, I  feel  that  I  could  endure  no  heavier  curse  than  to 
contract  an  alliance  like  any  of  these.  I  repeat  it,  I  believe 
in  Woman  as  God  made  her  and  intended  she  should  live, 
if  for  no  other  reason  than  because  I  recollect  my  mother, 
boy  as  I  was  when  she  died ;  and  because  I  know  and  have 
you,  my  true,  blessed  wife  1" 


HUSKS.  153 


CHAPTER    XII 

A  YEAR  and  five  months  had  passed  away  since  the  even- 
ing when  Lewis  Hammond  held  his  conscience-stricken  wife 
uponjris  knee,  and  told  her — in  fervid  words  that  singularly 
belied  his  calm  and  even  demeanor  at  other  times — of  his 
faith  in  and  love  for  her,  and  his  abhorrence  of  the  sin  she 
felt  in  her  trembling  soul  that  she  had  committed.  Yet  she 
had  not  the  superhuman  courage  required  to  contradict  a 
trust  like  this.  There  was  no  alternative  but  to  keep  up  the 
weary,  wicked  mockery  unto  the  end. 

"  But  in  all  these  months  she  must  have  learned  to  care 
for  him !"  cries  Mrs.  Common  Sense.  "  There  is  nothing 
disagreeable  about  the  man.  He  is  not  brilliant ;  yet  he  has 
intelligence  and  feeling,  and  is  certainly  attached  to  his  wife. 
I  have  no  doubt  but  that  he  indulges  her  in  every  reason  a- 
ble  request,  and  comports  himself  in  all  respects  like  an  ex- 
emplary husband." 

Granted,  to  each  and  every  head  of  your  description,  my 
dear  madam !  But,  for  all  that,  his  obdurate  wife  had  not 
come  to  10>ve  him.  I  blush  to  say  it ;  but  while  we  are  strip- 
ping hearts  let  us  not  be  squeamish  !  There  had  been  sea- 
sons, lasting  sometimes  for  weeks,  when  her  existence  was 
a  continual  warfare  between  repugnance  to  him  and  her 
sense  of  duty ;  when  she  dreaded  to  hear  his  step  in  the 
hall,  and  shrank  inwardly  from  his  caress  ;  watched  and 
fought,  until  strength  and  mind  were  well-nigh  gone.  Mark 
me  !  I  do  not  deny  that  this  was  as  irrational  as  it  was  rep 
7* 


154  THE    EMPTY    HEART;    OB, 

rehensible ;  but  I  have  never  held  up  my  poor  Sarah  as  a 
model  of  reason  or  propriety.  From  the  beginning,  I  have 
made  her  case  a  warning.  The  fates  forbid  that  I  should 
commend  it  to  any  as  an  example  for  imitation  !  A  passion- 
ate, proud,  reticent  girl ;  a  trusting,  loving,  deceived  woman 
a  hopeless,  desperate  bride — whose  heartjay  like  a  pulseless 
stone  in  her  breast  at  the  most  ardent  love-words  of  her 
husband,  and  throbbed  with  wild,  uncontrollable  emotion 
at  the  fraternal  tone  and  kiss  of  her  lost  and  only  love — I 
have  no  plea  for  her,  save  the  words  of  Infinite  compassion 
and  Divine  knowledge  of  human  nature  and  human  woe : 
"  Let  him  that  is  without  sin  among  you  cast  the  first  stone 
at  her!" 

The  highly  respectable  firm  of  which  Mr.  Hammond  was 
the  junior  member,  was  adding,  if  not  field  to  field,  thousand 
to  thousand,  of  the  wherewithal  for  the  purchase  of  fields, 
or,  what  was  better  still,  city  lots.  Mrs.  Lewis  Hammond 
had  set  up  her  carriage  about  a  year  after  her  marriage ;  said 
equipage  being  a  gift  from  her  generous  husband  on  the  oc- 
casion of  the  first  airing  of  the  little  "  Baby  Belle,"  as  she 
was  always  called  in  the  family.  Not  until  subsequent  events 
had  endowed  it  with  deeper  and  saddest  interest  did  Sarah 
read  Aldrich's  beautiful  poem  bearing  the  above  title. 
Lewis's  mother's  name  was  Isabella.  Her  grandchild  re- 
ceived the  same,  which  became  "  Belle"  on  the  mother's 
tongue,  and  then,  because  it  was  natural  to  say  "  Baby"  too, 
the  pretty  alliteration  was  adopted. 

To  a  man  of  Le\vis's  domestic  tastes  the  advent  of  this 
child  was  a  source  of  the  liveliest  pleasure,  and  the  tiny  in- 
mate of  his  household  was  another  and  a  powerful  tie,  bind- 
ing him  to  a  home  already  dear.  But  to  the  mother's  lonely 
life,  so  bare  of  real  comfort  or  joy — haunted  by  memory  and 
darkened  by  remorse — the  precious  gift  came  like  a  ray  of 
Heaven's  purest  light,  a  strain  of  angel  music,  saying  to 


HTJ8K8.  155 

care,  "  Sleep !"  to  hope,  "  Awake,  the  morning  cometh !"  Be- 
neath the  sunshine  of  so  much  love,  the  infant  throve  finely, 
and  without  being  a  greater  prodigy  than  the  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  miracles  of  beauty  and  sprighlliness  who, 
with  it,  composed  the  thousand  "  blessed  babies"  of  the  day, 
was  still  a  pretty,-  engaging  creature,  whose  gurgling  laugh 
and  communicative  "  coo"  beguiled  the  mother's  solitude, 
and  made  cheerful  the  lately  silent  house. 

It  was  late  in  the  June  afternoon,  and  arrayed  in  clean 
white  frock,  broad  sash,  and  shoulder-knots  of  pink  ribbon, 
the  small  lady  sat  on  her  mother's  lap  at  the  front  window, 
awaiting  the  appearance  of  the  husband  and  father.  Sarah 
had  altered  much  since  her  marriage ;  "  improved  wonder- 
fully," said  her  acquaintances.  There  was  still  in  her  mien  a 
touch  of  haughtiness;  in  her  countenance  the  look  that  spoke 
profound  thought  and  introspection.  Still,  when  in  repose, 
her  brow  had  a  cast  of  seriousness  that  bordered  on  melan- 
choly ;  but  over  her  features  had  passed  a  change  like  that 
wrought  by  the  sculptor's  last  stroke  to  the  statue.  The 
mould  was  the  same — the  chiselling  more  clear  and  fine. 
Especially  after  the  birth  of  her  child  was  this  refining  pro- 
cess most  apparent  in  its  effects.  There  was  a  softness  in  her 
smile,  a  gentle  sweetness  in  her  voice,  as  she  now  talked  to 
the  babe,  directing  its  attention  to  the  window,  lest  the 
father's  approach  should  be  unnoticed,  and  he  disappointed 
in  his  shout  of  welcome. 

"  How  affected !  gotten  up  for  show  !"  sn,eered  the  child 
less  Mrs.  Bond,  as  she  rolled  by  in  her  carriage,  on  her  way 
to  her  handsome,  cheerless  home  and  its  cross  master. 

"  She  has  chosen  her  position  well,  at  all  events,"  rejoined 
her  companion,  a  neighbor  and  gossip,  who  had  taken  Lucy's 
place  in  Victoria's  confidence. 

"Ridiculous!"  She  spat  out  the  ejaculation  from  the 
overflowing  of  her  spleen.  "I  could  laugh  at  her  airs,  if 


156  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

they  did  not  make  me  mad !  One  would  think,  to  see  her 
as  she  sits  there,  that  she  had  decked  herself  and  the  child 
to  please  a  man  that  she  doated  upon — like  the  good  wives 
we  read  of  in  novels." 

"  And  why  shouldn't  she  be  fond  of  him?  He  is  a  good- 
hearted  fellow,  and  lets  her  do  pretty  much  as  she  pleases, 
I  imagine,  besides  waiting  on  her  like  any  lover.  I  often 
meet  them  riding  out  together.  That  is  more  than  your 
husband  or  mine  ever  does,  my  dear." 

"  They  go  quite  as  often  as  we  desire  their  company,  I 
fancy.  Mine  does,  I  know.  Perhaps  if  we  had  the  reason 
for  parading  our  conjugal  devotion  that  Mrs.  Hammond  lias, 
we  might  wheedle  our  lawful  lords  into  taking  a  seat  along- 
side of  us,  once  in  a  while.  There's  nothing  like  keeping 
up  appearances,  particularly  if  the  reality  is  lacking.  If 
Lewis  Hammond  knew  some  of  the  pretty  stories  I  could 
tell  him,  about  his  Sarah's  love-scrapes,  he  would  not  look 
BO  sublimely  contented  with  his  three-story  paradise.  The 
elegant  clothes  he  piles  upon  that  squaw  of  his  are  prepos- 
terous, and  she  carries  them  off  as  if  she  had  dressed  well 
all  her  days.  I  tell  you,  she  never  looked  decent  until  she 
put  on  her  wedding-dress.  You  have  heard  of  the  fainting- 
scene  that  took  place  that  morning,  I  suppose  ?  Old  Mother 
Hunt  said  it  was  '  sensibility,'  and  '  nervous  agitation ;'  the 
company  laid  it  to  the  heat  of  the  room ;  and  I  laughed  in 
my  sleeve,  and  said  nothing.  If  that  woman  aggravates 
me  much  more,  I  will  remind  her  of  some  passages  in  her 
experience  she  does  not  dream  that  I  know." 

"  Do  tell  me  what  you  mean  ?  I  am  dying  of  curiosity  ! 
Did  she  flirt  very  hard  before  she  was  married  ?" 

"  She  never  had  the  chance.  Lewis  Hammond  was  her 
only  offer." 

"  What  was  the  matter,  then  ?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you  now.     It  is  too  long  a  story.    The  next 


157 


time  she  frets  me,  as  she  does  whenever  she  crosses  my 
path,  maybe  you  will  hear  the  romance.  Shall  I  set  you 
down  at  your  door,  or  will  you  enliven  me  by  spending  the 
evening  with  me?  I  do  not  expect  other  company,  and 
George  falls  asleep  over  his  newspaper  as  soon  as  he  has 
despatched  his  dinner.  Come  in,  and  I  will  show  you  the 
loveliest  sofa-pillow  you  ever  beheld  ;  a  new  pattern  I  have 
just  finished." 

"  Thank  you  !  I  would  accept  the  invitation  with  pleas- 
ure, but  I  have  not  been  home  since  breakfast,  and  Jamea 
makes  such  a  fuss  if  he  does  not  find  me  in  the  nursery, 
tending  that  whimpering  baby,  when  he  comes  up  at  night, 
that  it  is  as  much  as  my  life  is  worth  to  stay  out  after  six 
o'clock.  Any  thing  for  peace,  you  know ;  and  since  we 
wives  are  slaves,  it  is  best  to  keep  on  the  blind  side  of  our 
masters." 

The  day  had  been  warm  down  town,  and  as  Lewis  Ham- 
mond stepped  from  the  stage  at  the 'corner  nearest  his  house, 
he  felt  jaded  and  dispirited — a  physical  depression,  aug- 
mented by  a  slight  headache.  A  business  question  which  he 
had  talked  over  with  Mr.  Marlow,  before  leaving  the  store, 
contributed  its  weight  of  thoughtfulness,  and  he  was  not 
conscious  how  near  he  was  to  his  dwelling  until,  aroused  by 
a  sharp  tap  upon  the  window-pane,  he  glanced  up  at  the 
animated  tableau  framed  by  the  sash — the  smiling  mother, 
and  the  babe  leaping  and  laughing,  and  stretching  its  hands 
towards  him. 

"  This  is  the  sweetest  refreshment  a  man  can  ask  after 
his  day  of  toil,"  he  said,  when,  having  kissed  wife  and  child, 
he  took  the  latter  in  his  arms.  He  was  not  addicted  to 
complimentary  speeches,  and  while  his  esteem  and  attach- 
ment for  his  chosen  partner  were  even  stronger  than  they 
had  been  in  the  heart  of  the  month-old  bridegroom,  he  wa3 
less  apt  to  express  them  to  her  now  than  then.  In  one 


158  THE     EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

respect,  and  only  one,  his  wedded  life  had  brought  him 
disappointment.  Unreserved  confidence  and  demonstrative 
affection  on  his  side  had  failed  to  draw  forth  similar  exhibi- 
tions of  feeling  from  Sarah.  Kind,  thoughtful,  dutiful, 
{scrupulously  faithful  to  him  and  his  interests  in  word,  look, 
and  deed,  she  ever  was.  Yet  he  saw  that  she  was  , 
changed  being  from  the  fond,  impulsive  daughter,  whose 
ministry  in  her  father's  sick-room  had  won  for  her  a  hus- 
band's love.  Her  reception  of  his  affectionate  advances  was 
passive — a  reception  merely,  without  apparent  return. 
Never,  and  he  had  ceased  now  to  ask  it,  had  she  once  said 
to  him  the  phrase  he  had  craved  to  hear — "  I  love  you !" 
Yet  he  would  as  soon  have  questioned  the  reality  of  his 
existence  as  that  she  did  love  him.  He  held  inviolate  his 
trust  in  the  motive  that  had  induced  her  to  become  his  wife, 
and  in  this  calm  confidence  he  was  fain  to  rest,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  protestations  that  would  have  gladdened  his  soul, 
while  they  could  hardly  have  strengthened  his  faith  in  her 
affection. 

Few  wives,  however  loving,  have  been  more  truly  cher- 
ished than  was  Sarah,  and  of  this  she  was  partially  aware. 
If  she  had  remained  ignorant  of  Lewis's  sentiments  and 
wishes  with  regard  to  herself,  until  the  grieved  and  unre- 
quited love  had  subsided  into  the  dull  aching  that  does  not, 
like  a  green  wound,  create,  by  its  very  smart,  a  spe- 
cies of  excitement  that  helps  one  bear  the  pain ;  had  he 
glided  gradually  into  the  joyless  routine  of  her  life's  duties, 
and  bided  his  time  of  speaking  until  he  had  made  himself 
necessary  to  her  comfort  and  peace,  he  might  have  won  a 
willing  bride.  But  what  omniscient  spirit  was  there  to 
instruct  and  caution  him  1  He  met  and  loved  her,  supposing 
her  to  be  as  free  as  himself;  like  an  honest,  upright  man,  he 
told  that  love,  and,  without  a  misgiving,  placed  his  honor 
and  his  happiness  in  her  hands. 


1IU6K8.  159 

Sarah  could  not  have  told  why  she  revolved  all  this  in 
her  unquiet  mind  as  he  sat  near  her,  playing  with  their 
child ;  yet  she  did  think  of  their  strange  sad  history,  and 
from  the  review  arose  a  fueling  of  pity,  sincere,  almost 
tender,  for  him,  so  worthy  and  so  deceived.  She  remem- 
bered with  abasement  of  spirit  how  often  she  had  been 
ready  to  hate  him  as  the  instrument  of  her  bondage ;  how 
wrathful  words  had  arisen  to  her  lips  at  the  moment  of  his 
greatest  kindness  ;  how  patiently  he  had  borne  her  coldness  ; 
how  unflagging  was  his  care  of  and  for  her.  Over  the  dark, 
turbulent  gulf  of  the  uuforgotten  past  that  sundered  their 
hearts,  she  longed,  as  she  had  never  done  before,  to  call  to 
him,  and  confessing  her  sin  against  Heaven  and  against 
him,  to  implore  pardon  for  the  sake  of  the  spotless  babe 
that  smiled  into  the  father's  face  with  its  mother's  eyes. 
Would  he  be  merciful  ?  Slowly  and  emphatically  memory 
repeated  in  her  ear  his  denunciation  of  the  unloving  wife, 
and  courage  died  before  the  menaced  curse. 

"  Fudge !  Fiddlesticks !  what  frippery  nonsense !"  cry 
out,  in  a  vehement  storm  of  indignation,  a  bevy  of  the 
Common  Sense  connection.  "  Are  we  not  staid  and  respect- 
able matrons  all  ?  Do  we  not  rear  our  daughters  virtuous- 
ly, and  teach  our  sons  to  honor  father  as  well  as  mother? 
Yet  who  of  us  troubles  herself  with  raking  in  the  cold  ashes 
of  her  '  long  ago'  for  the  bones  of  some  dead  and  gone  love 
— a'  girlish  folly  of  which  she  would  be  ashamed  now  ? 
"What  cares  Mr.  Common  Sense,  among  his  day-books  and 
ledgers,  in  his  study  or  in  his  office,  how  many  times  his  now 
correct  helpmeet  pledged  eternal  fidelity  to  other  lovers 
before  she  put  her  last  crop  of  wild  oats  into  the  ground, 
and  settled  for  life  with  him  ?  What  if  some  of  us,  may  be  • 
all,  if  driven  hard,  should  admit  that  when  we  stood  up 
before  the  minister  we  underwent  certain  qualms — call  them 
pangs,  if  you  likt — at  the  thought  of  Tom  This,  or  Harry 


160  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

That,  or  Dick  The  Other,  who,  if  circumstances  had  permit* 
ted,  we  would  have  preferred  should  occupy  the  place  of 
*  The  man  whom  we  actually  held  by  the  hand !'  While 
men  can  choose  their  mates,  and  women  can  only  -take  such 
as  propose  to  them,  these  things  will  happen.  After  all, 
who  is  hurt?"  You  aver  that  none  of  you  are,  mesdaines, 
and  we  would  not  call  your  word  in  question.  Ladies  so 
conscientious  must,  of  necessity,  be  veracious,  even  in  love 
affairs. 

"  I  am  a  thoughtless  animal !"  said  Lewis  at  the  dinner- 
table.  "  There  is  a  letter  from  Lucy  !  Open  it — don't 
mind  me  !  I  will  crack  your  nuts  for  you  while  you  read 
it." 

There  was  a  troubled  look  in  Sarah's  eye  when  she  laid 
it  down.  "  Lucy  says  they  are  certainly  coining  North  this 
year — that  we  may  look  for  them  in  a  week  from  the  date 
of  this.  This  is  rather  sooner  than  mother  expected  them. 
Her  housecleaning  is  late  this  season,  in  consequence  of  hei 
rheumatic  spell  in  May." 

"  Let  them  come  straight  here !  What  should  prevent 
them?  There  is  an  abundance  of  room  for  them — baby, 
nurse,  and  all.  It  will  be  a  grand  arrangement !"  said 
Lewis,  heartily. 

Sarah  was  backward  in  replying.  "  Father  and  mother 
may  object.  I  would  not  wound  them  by  interference  with 
their  guests." 

"  I  will  answer  that  mother  will  thank  us  to  take  care  oi 
*hem  until  her  scrubbing  and  scalding  are  done.  And  Lucy 
would  not  be  willing  to  risk  her  baby's  health  in  a  damp 
house." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  mother  to-morrow  about  it,"  concluded 
Sarah.  She  still  appeared  dubious  as  to  the  expediency  of 
the  proposed  step,  a  though tfulness  that  did  not  wear  away 
during  the  whole  evening. 


HUSKS.  161 

The  Bensons  had  not  visited  New  York  the  preceding 
year.  They  were  detained  at  the  South  by  a  combination 
of  causes,  the  principal  of  which  was  the  long  and  fatal  ill 
ness  of  Philip's  mother.  Lucy  had  written  repeatedly  of  her 
intense  desire  to  see  her  home  once  more,  declaiming  agaiust 
"  the  providences  that  had  thwarted  their  projects,  like  an  im- 
patient, unreasonable  child. 

"  Philip  says  it  is  not  convenient  for  him  to  go  just  yet," 
said  her  letter  to  her  sister,  "  and  that  our  part  of  the  eoun- 
try  is  as  healthy  as  Saratoga  itself ;  but  I  have  vowed  that 
I  wiU  not  wait  one  day  beyond  the  time  I  have  set.  It  seta 
me  wild  to  think  of  being  in  Broadway  again — of  visiting 
and  shopping,  and  seeing  you  all.  We  have  been  so  dull 
here  since  Mrs.  Benson's  death,  and  Philip  is  as  solemn  as  a 
judge.  One  of  his  married  sisters  will  stay  with  the  old 
gentleman  while  we  are  away.  O  Sarah!  I  am  sick  of 
housekeeping  and  baby-nursing !  It  will  do  well  enough  for 
me  when  I  need  spectacles  and  a  wig ;  but  now,  while  I  am 
young  enough  to  enjoy  life,  it  is  insufferable  /" 

"  Not  very  domestic,  is  she  ?"  observed  Lewis,  folding  up 
the  letter,  which  Sarah  had  handed  him.  "  Ah  !  it  is  not 
every  man  who  has  such  a  gem  of  a  wife  as  I  have  !  It  ap- 
pears to  me  that  the  married  women  of  these  days  are  not 
satisfied  unless  they  have  a  string  of  beaux  as  long  as  that 
of  a  popular  single  belle.  How  is  it,  little  one  ?  Do  you 
ever  catch  yourself  wishing  that  your  husband  were  not  such 
an  old-fashioned  piece  of  constancy,  and  would  give  some 
other  fellow  a  chance  to  say  a  pretty  thing,  when  you  are  in 
company  ?' 

"  I  do  not  complain,"  said  Sarah,  demurely. 

"  Not  in  words,  perhaps ;  your  patience  is  wonderful  in 
every  thing.  But  how  do  you  feel  when  you  see  your  old 
neighbor,  Mrs.  Bond,  waltzing  every  set  with  the  gayest 
gallant  in  *he  ball-room,  while  your  jailor  does  not  like  to 


162  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OR, 

have  you  'polk'  at  all,  and  favors  your  dancing  only  wilh 
men  whom  he  knows  to  be  respectable." 

"  I  feel  that  Mr.  Hammond  is  a  sensible  man,  and  careful 
of  Lis  wife's  reputation,  even  in  trifles,  while  Mr.  Bond — " 

"  Go  on  !   finish  your  sentence  !" 

"  And  his  lady  are  a  well-matched  pair  !" 

Much  as  she  disliked  Victoria,  and  knowing  that  she  was 
hated  still  by  her,  Sarah  deemed  it  a  necessary  and  common 
act  of  courtsey  to  her  sister's  friend  to  call  and  apprise  her 
of  Lucy's  probable  visit. 

"  It  is  not  convenient  for  mother  to  receive  them  for 
a  week  yet,  on  account  of  certain  household  arrange- 
ments," she  stated,  in  making  known  the  object  of  her 
visit  to  her  ancient  enemy.  "  So  you  will  find  Lucy  at  our 
house,  where  her  friends  will  be  received  as  if  they  were 
my  own." 

"  You  are  very  polite,  I  am  sure !"  replied  Mrs.  Bond, 
smothering  her  displeasure  at  Sarah's  studied  civility,  and 
noting,  with  her  quick,  reptile  perceptions,  that  she  was  to 
be  tolerated  as  she  fancied  Sarah  would  imply,  merely  as 
Lucy's  early  associate.  "  And  the  Bensons  are  to  be  with 
you  1 1  shall  call  immediately  upon  their  arrival.  Poor,  dear 
Lucy !  I  long  to  see  her.  She  has  had  a  vast  deal  of  trouble 
since  her  marriage — has  she  not  ?" 

"  Except  the  death  of  her  mother-in-law,  she  has  had 
nothing  to  trouble  her  that  I  have  heard  of,"  answered  Sarah, 
rising  to  go. 

"  My  dear  creature  !  what  do  you  call  the  wear  and  tear 
of  managing  a  husband,  and  a  pack  of  unruly  servants,  and 
looking  after  a  baby  ?  And  she  was  such  a  belle  !  I  wonder 
if  she  is  much  broken  !" 

"  Come  and  see  !" 

Mrs  Hammond  was  at  the  parlor  door. 

"  I  will — most  assuredly !     llow  do  you  like  their  being 


HUSK'S.  163 

quartered  upon  you  ?  What  does  that  pattern  husband  of 
yours  say  to  this  ?" 

"  Madain !"  said  Sarah,  surprised  and  offended  by  the  rude 
query. 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  mean  that  it  would  not  be  very  delightful 
for  you  to  have  yo.ur  sister  with  you  ;  but  there  was  a  fool- 
ish rumor,  about  the  time  of  your  marriage,  that  you  and  Mr. 
Benson  had  some  kind  of  a  love-passage,  down  in  the  coun- 
try ;  and  I  thought  that  Mr.  Hammond,  with  his  particularly 
nice  notions,  might  retain  an  unpleasant  recollection  of  the 
story,  which  would  prevent  him  from  being  on  brotherly 
terms  with  his  old  rival.  Men  are  terribly  unreasonable 
mortals,  and  perfect  Turks  in  jealousy !  We  cannot  be  too 
careful  not  to  provoke  their  suspicious." 

Not  for  the  universe  would  Sarah  have  betrayed  any  feel- 
ing at  this  insolence,  save  a  righteous  and  dignified  resent- 
ment at  its  base  insinuations  ;  but  the  ungovernable  blood 
.  streamed  in  crimson  violence  to  her  temples,  and  her  voice 
shook  when  she  would  have  held  it  firm. 

"  Mr.  Hammond  is  not  one  to  be  influenced  by  malicious 
gossip,  Mrs.  Bond,  if,  indeed,  the  report  you  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  repeating'  "!vas  ever  circulated  except  by  its  author. 
I  cannot  thank  you  for  your  warning,  as  I  recognize  no  occa- 
sion for  jealousy  in  my  conduct  or  character.  I  am  account- 
able for  my  actions  to  my  conscience  and  my  husband,  and  I 
release  you  from  what  you  have  assumed  to  be  your  duty  of 
watching  and  criticising  my  personal  affairs.  Good-morning." 

"  I  struck  the  sore  spot !  no  doubt  of  that !"  soliloquized 
Mrs.  Bond,  recalling  Sarah's  start  of  pain  and  blush  at  the, 
indelicate  allusion  to  Philip  Benson.  "  Tiiat  woman  stirs  up 
all  the  bile  in  my  system  if  I  talk  two  minutes  with  her.  If 
there  were  half  the  material  to  work  upon  in  that  vain,  weak 
Lucy,  that  there  is  in  this  sister,  I  would  have  my  revenge. 
As  for  Lewis  Hammond,  he  is  a  love-sick  fool !" 


164  THE     EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

Sarah's  cheeks  had  not  lost  their  flush,  nor  had  her  heart 
ceased  its  angry  throbbings,  when  she  reached  home.  In 
the  solitude  of  her  chamber,  she  summoned  strength  and 
resolution  to  ask  herself  the  question,  so  long  avoided,  shun- 
ned, as  she  had  imagined,  in  prudence,  as  she  now  began  tc 
fear,  in  dread  of  a  truthful  reply. 

When  she  married  Lewis  Hammond,  she  loved  another. 
Fearful  as  was  this  sin,  it  would  be  yet  more  terrible  were 
she  now  to  discover  a  lurking  fondness,  an  unconquered 
weakness  for  that  other,  in  the  heart  of  the  trusted  wife,  the 
mother  who,  from  that  guilty  bosom,  nourished  the  little 
being  that  was,  as  yet,  the  embodiment  of  unsullied  purity 
It  was  a  trying  and  a  perilous  task,  to  unfold  deliberately, 
to  pry  searchingly  into  the  record  of  that  one  short  month 
that  had  held  all  the  bloom  and  fragrance  of  her  life's  spring 
season ;  to  linger  over  souvenirs  and  compare  sensations — • 
a  painful  and  revolting  process ;  but,  alas  !  the  revulsion  waa 
not  at  memories  of  that  olden  time  ;  and  as  this  appalling 
conviction  dawned  upon  her,  her  heart  died  within  her. 

The  nurse  was  arranging  Baby  Belle  for  the  possible  re- 
ception of  her  unknown  aunt  and  uncle,  that  afternoon,  when 
Mrs.  Hammond  came  into  the  nursery,  her  face  as  pale  and 
set  as  marble,  and  silently  lifted  the  child  from  the  girl's  lap 
to  her  own.  For  one  instant  her  cheek  was  laid  against  the 
velvet  of  the  babe's  ;  the  ringlets  of  fair  hair  mingled  with 
her  dark  locks,  before  she  set  about  completing  its  unfinish- 
ed toilette.  With  a  nicety  and  care  that  would  have  seem- 
ed overstrained,  had  other  than  the  mother's  hands  beeu 
busied  in  the  work,  the  stockings  and  slippers  were  fitted  on 
the  plump  feet ;  the  sunny  curls  rolled  around  the  fingers  of 
the  tiring  woman,  and  brushed  back  from  the  brow;  the 
worked  cambric  robe  lowered  cautiously  over  the  head,  lest 
the  effect  of  the  coiffure  should  be  marred  ;  the  sleeves  loop 
ed  up  with  bands  of  coral  and  gold,  a  necklace,  belonging  to 


HTTSKS.  165 

the  same  set,  clasped  around  the  baby's  white  throat,  and 
she  was  ready  for  survey 

"  Now,  Baby  Belle  and  mamma  will  go  down  to  meet 
papa !" 

And  with  the  little  one  still  clinging  to  her  neck,  she  met, 
in  the  lower  hall,  her  husband  ushering  in  Lucy  aud  Pliilip 
Benson. 


16ft  THE    EMPTY   HEARTJ    OB, 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

BREAKFAST  was  kept  back  an  hour  next  morning  to  await 
Lucy's  tardy  appearance.  "  She  was  sadly  wearied  with 
her  journey,"  apologized  Philip,  and  Sarah  begged  that  she 
would  keep  her  room  and  have  her  meals  sent  up  to  her — • 
an  hospitable  offer,  which  Mr.  Benson  negatived. 

Lucy  did  look  tired  and  unrefreshed,  and,  to  speak  nioro 
plainly,  very  cross.  Her  hair,  in  its  dryest  state  of  pale 
yellow,  was  combed  straight  back  above  her  temples ;  her 
skin  was  sallow  ;  her  wrapper  carelessly  put  on,  and  its  dead 
white  unrolieved  by  even  a  bow  of  ribbon  at  the  throat.  In- 
voluntarily Lewis  glanced  from  the  uninviting  picture  to  his 
household  deity,  in  her  neat  breakfast-dress  of  gray  silb 
faced  with  pink,  her  glossy  hair  and  tranquil  features,  and 
said  to  himself,  in  secret  triumph,  "Which  is  now  the  beauty  ? 
None  of  your  trumpery  ornamental  articles  for  me  !" 

Philip's  eyes  were  as  keen  as  his  host's,  and  the  probabili- 
ty is  that  he  instituted  a  similar  comparison,  however  well 
his  pride  succeeded  in  concealing  the  act  and  its  result. 
Cutting  short  his  wife's  querulous  plaints  of  the  discomforts 
of  travel,  and  the  horrors  of  nervous  sleeplessness,  he  open- 
ed a  conversation  with  Mr.  Hammond  in  the  subdued,  per- 
fectly-managed tones  Sarah  remembered  so  well,  selecting 
such  topics  as  would  interest  a  business  man  and  a  citizen 
of  a  commercial  metropolis.  Lucy  pouted,  and  applied  her- 
self for  consolation  to  her  breakfast. 

With  a  strange  mingling  of  emotions,  Sarah  listened  to 


HUSKS.  167 

thfe  dialogue  between  the  gentlemen.  She  was  anxious  that 
Lewis  should  acquit  himself  creditably.  Brilliant,  like 
Philip,  he  could  never  be ;  but  in  sterling  sense,  not  many- 
men  were  his  superiors.  She  had  never  had  cause  to  be 
ashamed  of  him ;  for  one  so  unpretending  and  judicious 
\vas  not  liable  to  make  himself  ridiculous.  Whence,  then, 
the  solicitude  with  which  she  hung  upon  his  every  word  ? 
her  disappointment  when  he  did  not  equal  the  ideal  reply 
she  had  fashioned,  as  she  heard  the  words  that  called  it 
forth  ?  Several  times  she  joined  in  the  conversation,  inva- 
riably to  corroborate  Lewis's  assertions,  or  to  supply  some- 
thing he  had  omitted  to  state.  Philip  Benson  was  a  student 
of  human  nature.  Was  his  mind  sufficiently  abstracted 
from  his  domestic  annoyances  to  divine  the  motive  that 
Sarah  herself  only  perceived  afterwards  in  solitary  self- 
examination  ?  Not  love  of,  or  admiration  for  the  intrinsic 
excellence  of  the  man  whose  name  she  bore  ;  not  fear  lest 
his  modesty  should  lessen  his  merits  in  the  eyes  of  others  ; 
but  a  selfish  dread  that  his  acute  interlocutoi-,  discerning  in 
him  nothing  likely  to  attract  or  win  the  affection  of  a  woman 
such  as  he  knew  her  to  be,  might  guess  her  true  reason  for 
marrying  Mr.  Hammond.  The  timorous  progeny  of  one 
guilty  secret  can  only  be  numbered  by  the  minutes  during 
which  it  is  borne  in  the  bosom.  Like  the  fabled  Lacedae- 
monian boy,  Sarah  carried  the  gnawing  horror  with  a  forti- 
tude that  looked  like  cheerfulness.  Habit  cannot  lighten 
the  weight  of  a  clinging  curse ;  but  strength  and  hardness 
come  in  time,  if  the  burdened  one  is  not  early  crushed  by 
his  load. 

The  sisters  spent  most  of  the  day  in  Lucy's  room  ;  the 
latter  stretched  upon  the  lounge,  as  she  declared,  "com- 
pletely xised  up."  Mrs.  Hunt  came  around  early  in  the 
forenoon,  and  into  her  sympathizing  ears  the  spoiled  child 
poured  the  story  of  her  woes  and  wrongs  ;  Sarah  sitting  by 


168  THE    EMPTY     HEART;     OR, 

with  a  swelling,  rebellious  heart.  "With  indecorous  contempt 
for  one  of  the  most  binding  laws  of  the  married  state — in- 
violable secrecy  as  to  the  faults  of  the  other  party  to  the 
momentous  compact — mother  and  daughter  compared  notes 
upon  their  husbands,  and  criticised  the  class  generally  as  the 
most  wrong-headed,  perverse,  and  dictatorial  of  all  tht 
necessary  evils  of  society. 

Mrs.  Benson,  the  elder,  and  her  pleasure-loving  daughter 
in-law  had  differed  seriously  several  months  before  the  death 
of  the  former.  Philip,  while  espousing  his  wife's  cause  to 
the  rest  of  his  family,  had,  in  private,  taken  her  to  task  for 
what  he  considered  objectionable  in  her  conduct ;  her  heads 
of  offence  being  mainly  extravagant  love  of  gay  company, 
and  the  gallant  attentions  of  gentleman-visitors ;  neglect  of 
dress  and  all  efforts  to  please,  when  there  was  no  company 
by ;  and  a  decided  indisposition  to  share  in  the  household 
duties,  which  his  mother's  increasing  feebleness  made 
onerous  to  her. 

"  Ah,  mother  !'*  sighed  the  interesting  complainant,  raising 
herself  to  shake  up  her  pillow,  then  sinking  again  upon  it. 
"If  girls  only  realized  what  is  before  them  when  they 
marry,  few  would  be  brave  enough  to  change  their  con- 
dition. When  I  picture  to  myself  what  I  was  at  home — a 
petted  darling — never  allowed  to  inconvenience  myself 
when  it  could  possibly  be  avoided  ;  courted  in  society ;  free 
as  air  and  light-hearted  as  a  chilo  ;  and  then  think  of  all 
that  I  have  endured  from  the  unkindness  of  strangers,  and 
the — well — the  want  of  sympathy  in  him  for  whom  I  had 
given  up  my  dear  old  home  and  friends — I  ask  myself  why 
T  did  not  remain  single  !" 

The  prudent  matchmaker  shook  her  head.  "  Marriage  is 
a  lottery,  they  say,  my  dear ;  but  I  am  very  sure  that  single 
life  is  a  blank.  You  had  no  fortune,  and  in  the  event  of 
your  father's  death  would  have  been  almost  destitute-  I  am 


HUSKS.  169 

sorry  that  your  father  did  not  insist  upon  Mr.  Benson's 
giving  you  your  own  establishment  at  once.  I  hope,  now 
the  old  lady  is  out  of  the  way,  you  will  have  things  more 
according  to  your  notions." 

"  Don't  you  believe  that !  As  if  there  were  not  two 
sisters-in-law,  living  but  four  miles  off,  and  driving -over 
every  other  day  to  '  see  how  pa  is.'  That  means,  to  see 
whether  Lucy  is  letting  things  go  to  wreck  and  ruin.  I 
understand  their  spiteful  ways !  Philip  shuts  his  ears  when 
I  talk  about  them ;  but  I  am  determined  that  I  will  not  bear 
much  more  meddling !" 

Decidedly,  Lucy  Benson  married  was  a  woeful  declension 
from  the  seraphic  spinster  depicted  in  our  earlier  chapters ; 
but,  as  in  time  past,  so  in  time  present  and  to  come,  the 
sparkling  sugar,  whose  integrity  and  sweetness  appeared 
indestructible,  while  it  was  kept  dry  and  cool,  if  dampened, 
undergoes  an. acetous  fermentation,  and  the  delicate  sweet- 
meat, exposed  to  the  air  at  a  high  temperature,  becomes 
speedily  a  frothing  mass,  evolving  pungent  gases.  The 
pretty  doll  who  anticipates,  in  the  connubial  state,  one  long 
fete-daj  of  adoration  received,  and  benign  condescension 
dispensed,  is  as  certain  to  awake  from  this  dream  as  from 
any  other,  and  upon  the  temper  in  which  she  sustains  the 
disenchantment,  depends  a  vast  proportion  of  her  future 
welfare  and  peace. 

Lucy's  ^behavior  to  her  babe  was  a  mixture  of  childish 
fondling  and  neglect.  Fortunately,  the  little  "  Hunt's" 
special  attendant  was  an  elderly  woman,  long  established  a^ 
'Maumer"  in  the  Benson  family,  and  her  devotion  to  her  • 
charge  prevented  any  present  evil  effects  from  his  mother's 
incompetence  or  carelessness.  Philip's  pride  in,  and  love 
for  his  bey  were  extreme.  When  he  came  in  that  evening, 
Sarah  chanced  to  be  in  the  nursery  adjoining  her  chamber, 
watching  and  inciting  the  two  babies  to  a  game  of  romps. 
8 


170  THE    EMPTY     H  E  A  B  T  J     OK, 

She  held  one  on  each  knee,  the  nurses  standing  by  in 
amused  gratification. 

"  That  is  surely  my  little  man's  voice !"  said  Philip,  as  he 
and  Lewis  came  up  the  stairs. 

"  Let  me  see !" — and  Mr.  Hammond  peeped  into  the  play- 
oon>.  "  Walk  hi !"  he  continued,  throwing  the  door  wide 
open.  "  Isn't  there  a  pair  of  them  ?" 

"  And  a  nurse  worthy  of  the  twain !"  replied  Philip.  He> 
stooped  to  the  invitation  of  the  lifted  arms,  fluttering,  as  if 
the  owner  would  fly  to  his  embrace.  "  What  do  you  say 
of  him,  aunty?  Is  he  not  a  passable  boy?" 

"  More  than  passable  !  he , is  a  noble-looking  fellow.  He 
resembles  you,  I  think,"  said  Sarah,  quietly. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  Hammond  ?  Your  wife  pronounces 
me  '  more  than  passable — a  noble-looking  fellow !'  So  much 
for  an  adroit  hint.  Is  she  given  to  flattery  ?" 

"  Not  she !"  returned  Lewis,  laughing.  "  She  never  said 
as  much  as  that  for  my  looks  in  all  her  life.  I  have  one  con- 
solation, however ;  the  less  she  says  the  more  she  means  !" 
He  went  into  the  dressing-room,  and  Philip,  still  holding  the 
child,  seated  himself  by  Sarah. 

"  How  odd,  yet  how  familiar  it  seems,  to  be  With  you 
once  more,  my  good  sister !  What  a  succession  of  mis- 
chances has  made  us  virtual  strangers  for  many  months 
past !  I  had  almost  despaired  of  ever  holding  friendly  con- 
verse with  you  again.  I  wonder  if  your  recollections 
of  our  visit  to  Aunt  Sarah  are  as  vivid  as  mine.  Do 
you  remember  that  last  sad,  yet  dear  day  on  the  Deal 
Beach  ?" 

Baby  Belle  was  standing  in  her  mother's  lap,  her  soft, 
warm  arms  about  her  neck ;  and  around  the  frail,  sinking 
human  heart  invisible  arms,  as  warm  and  close,  were  up- 
holding and  strengthening  it  in  the  moment  of  mortal 
weakness. 


HUSKS.  171 

"  Very  distinctly.  Many  changes  have  come  to  us  both 
since  then." 

"To  me  very  many!  I  have  grown  older  in  heart  than 
in  years."  Then,  evidently  fearing  that  she  might  other- 
wise interpret  his  meaning,  he  subjoined  :  "  We  have  had  a 
heavy  bereavement  in  our  household,  you  know.  I'owr 
changes  have  all  been  happy  ones.  The  enthusiastic,  rest- 
less girl  has  ripened  into  the  more  sedate,  yet  more  blessed 
wife  and  mother." 

Press  your  sweet  mouth  to  the  convulsed  lips,  Baby 
Belle!  veil  with  your  silky  curls  the  tell-tale  features, 
whose  agitation  would  bewilder,  if  not  betray !  Philip  was 
stroking  the  head  of  his  boy,  and  did  not  see  the  uneasiness 
of  his  companion.  * 

"  Have  you  heard  of  Uncle  Nathan's  death  ?"  she  asked, 
clearing  her  throat. 

He  looked  surprised  at  the  inquiry.  "Yes!  Aunt  Sarah 
wrote  immediately  to  my  father." 

"  Ah  !  I  had  forgotten  that  they  were  brothers.  My 
memory  is  treacherous.  Excuse  me !  I  am  wanted  in  the 
dining-room !" 

Lewis  met  her  just  outside  the  door,  and  stopped  her  to 
bestow  the  evening  kiss  he  had  not  cared  to  offer  in  Philip's 
presence. 

"  Why,  you  are  as  rosy  as  a  peony !"  he  said,  jestingly. 
"  Has  Benson  been  paying  you  compliments,  in  return  for 
yours  to  him  ?  I  must  look  after  you  two,  if  you  carry  on 
at  this  rate." 

With  a  look  he  had  reason  subsequently  to  recall,  but 
which  only  pleased  him  at  the  time,  she  raised  his  hand  to 
her  lips — a  look  of  humility,  gratitude,  and  appeal,  such  as 
one  might  cast  upon  a  slighted  benefactor — and  vanished. 

A  merry  family  party  gathered  around  the  Hammond's 
generous  table,  that  afternoon.  All  the  Hunts  wei  e  there— 


172  THE  EMPTY    HEART;   OR, 

from  the  father  down  to  Jeannie,  who  was  fast  shooting  up 
into  a  tall  girl,  somewhat  pert  in  manner,  but  lovable  despite 
this,  at  times,  unpleasant  foible. 

"  Sister  Lucy,"  she  said,  after  an  interval  of  silence, 
"  Ellen  West  said,  at  school,  to-day,  that  you  were  a  great 
belle  when  you  were  a  young  lady ;  were  you  ?" 

"  You  must  not  ask  me,  Jeannie !"  The  old  smile  of 
conscious  beauty  stole  into  Lucy's  cheeks. 

"  Was  she,  sister  ?"  Jeannie  referred  the  case  to  Sarah. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  she  was  very  beautiful,"  replied  the  latter, 
simply. 

"  She  isn't  now — not  so  very  handsome,  I  mean — no  hand- 
somer than  you  are,  sister  !" 

"  Jeannie !  you  forget  yourself!"  interposed  Mrs.  Hunt. 

"  Why,  mamma,  I  did  not  intend  to  be  rude !  Only  I 
thought  that  belles  were  always  the  prettiest  ladies  that 
could  be  found  anywhere." 

"  By  no  means !"  corrected  Lewis,  willing  to  help  his 
wife's  pet  out  of  a  scrape.  "There  are  many  descriptions 
of  belles,  Jeannie :  handsome,  rich,  fast,  and  intellectual." 

"  And  as  papa  was  not  rich,  I  suppose  you  were  either 
fast  or  intellectual,  sister  Lucy  !"  persisted  the  child. 

"  I  thought  her  pretty  fast  when  I  tried  to  catch  her," 
said  Philip. — "  Mrs.  Hunt,  Mrs.  Hammond,  Mrs.  Benson, 
have  you  ladies  decided  in  the  course  of  to-day's  congress 
what  watering-place  is  to  be  made  the  fashion  by  our 
clique  next  month?" 

Mrs.  Hunt  replied  that  they  inclined  to  Newport ;  princi- 
pally on  account  of  Lucy  and  the  children,  who  would  aU 
be  benefited  by  the  bathing. 

Lucy  was  sure  that  she  should  tire  of  Saratoga  or  the 
Catskills  in  a  week,  whereas  she  adored  the  ocean. 

"  What  says  Madame  Discretion  ?"  said  Lewis,  merrily, 
to  his  wife. 


HUSKS.  173 

"Except  that  it  would  break  up  the  family  party,  I  had 
rather  stay  at  home  as  long  as  it  is  prudent  to  keep  the 
baby  in  town  ;  then,  if  you  could  go  with  us,  spend  a  month 
at  some  mountain  farm-house  or  sea-side  cottage,"  she 
answered. 

"Hear!  hear !"  commanded  Philip.  "Behold  a  modern 
wedded  dame  who  prefers  seclusion  with  her  liege  lord  to 
gayety  without  him!  The  age  of  miracles  is  returning  !"  . 

"  Is  the  case,  then,  so  anomalous  ?"  retorted  Sarah,  the  red 
Bpot  in  her  cheek  alone  testifying  to  her  embarrassment. 
"  Are  your  Southern  matrons  all  public  characters  ?" 

"I  can  answer  that!"  said  Lucy.  "They  are  slaves! 
housekeeping  machines — nothing  better  !" 

"  How  many  more  weak  places  are  there  in  this  crust  of 
family  chit-chat,  I  should  like  to  be  informed  !"  thought  the 
annoyed  and  uninitiated  Hammond.  "Here  goes  for  the 
spot  where  there  is  no  danger  of  anybody's  breaking  in !" 
He  spoke  aloud.  "  A  tempting  proposal  was  made  to  me 
this  morning.  It  is  considered  advisable  for  one  of  our  firm 
to  go  abroad  for  a  couple  of  months,  perhaps  longer,  to 
divide  his  time  among  the  principal  manufacturing  districts 
of  England,  Scotland,  and  France.  Expenses  paid  by  the 
firm,  and  the  term  of  absence  indefinitely  prolonged,  if  the 
traveller  wishes  it.  Mr.  Marlow  is  tired  of  crossing  the 
ocean,  and  presses  me  to  accept  the  mission." 

"  What  did  you  tell  him  ?" 

It  was  Sarah  who  spoke  in  a  startled  voice  that  drew 
general  notice  to  her  alarmed  face.  Her  concern  was  a  de- 
licious tribute  to  her  husband's  self-love,  if  he  possessed 
such  a  quality.  At  least  he  loved  her  well  enough  to  be 
pleased  at  her  manifest  reluctance  to  have  him  leave  her. 

"  I  told  him  that  I  must  ask  my  wife,"  said  he  in  a  meek 
tone,  belied  by  the  humorous  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and  loving 
half-smile  about  his  mouth.  "  See  what  it  is  to  be  one  under 


174  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

authority,  Benson !  A  man  dare  not  conclude  an  ordinary 
business  transaction  without  the  approval  of  the  powers 
that  be." 

When  Sarah  accompanied  her  sister  to  her  chamber  that 
night,  the  passee  belle  put  a  direct  question. 

"  Tell  me,  Sarah,  are  you  as  much  in  love  with  Mr.  Ham- 
mond as  you  seem  to  be,  or  is  it  all  put  on  for  the  benefit  of 
outsiders  ?" 

"  I  am  not  apt  to  do  any  thing  for  the  sate  of  mere  show ; 
nor  do  I  care  for  the  opinion  of  '  outsiders,'  as  you  call 
them,"  rejoined  Sarah,  amazed  at  the  cool  audacity  of  the 
inquiry,  and  disposed  to  resent  Lucy's  confident  expectation 
that  she  would  avow  the  cheat,  if  such  there  were,  in  her 
deportment. 

"  You  used  to  be  shockingly  independent,  I  know.  What 
a  ridiculously  honest  little  puss  you  were  !  How  you  de- 
spised all  our  pretty  arts  and  necessary  affectations  !  How 
you  hated  our  economical  mother's  second-best  furniture  and 
dinners !  I  don't  believe  Victoria  West  has  ever  forgiven 
you  for  the  way  in  which  you  used  to  take  to  pieces  what 
you  styled  our  '  surface  talk  and  surface  life  !'  I  thought, 
however,  that  you  had  discovered  by  this  time,  that  one 
cannot  live  in  the  world  without  deceiving  herself  or  other 
people ;  I  prefer  making  fools  to  being  one.  Heigh-ho !  this 
life  is  a  very  unsatisfactory  business  at  the  best.  What  a 
heavenly  collar  that  is  of  yours  !  One  thing  I  do  wish,  and 
that  is — that  my  husband  were  half  as  fond  of  me,  or  as 
qjood  to  me,  as  Lewis  is  to  you !" 


175 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

LEWIS  HAMMOND  had  thrown  the  whole  weight  of  his  in- 
fluence in  the  family  conclave,  into  the  Newport  scale ;  and 
to  this  popular  resort  Sarah  went,  in  July,  in  company  with 
the  Bensons,  her  mother  and  Jeannie,  who  was  made  one  of 
the  party  at  Lewis's  request  and  expense.  The  generous 
fellow  acted  in  conformity  with  conscience  and  judgment  in 
this  temporary  exile  of  his  treasures  ;  and,  consistent  in  his 
purpose  of  rendering  it  a  pleasure  excursion  to  his  wife,  he 
made  very  light  of  his  prospects  of  lonely  widowerhood,  rep- 
resenting, instead,  the  benefit  she  and  the  babe  would  draw 
from  the  sea-breezes,  and  his  enhanced  enjoyment  of  his 
weekly  visits,  because  they  were  so  far  apart.  He  went  with 
them  to  the  shore,  at  their  general  flitting,  and  spent  two 
days  ;  saw  for  himself  that  those  whose  comfort  was  nearest 
his  heart  were  properly  accommodated ;  privately  feed 
chambermaid  and  waiter,  with  hints  of  future  emolument 
to  accrue  to  them  from  special  regard  to  the  wants  of 
Mrs.  Hammond  and  her  infant,  and  returned  to  town  with 
the  unenviable  consciousness  of  having  left  at  least  three- 
fourths  of  himself  behind  him. 

A  brisk  rush  of  business  beguiled  him  of  the  aching,  hoi  , 
low  void  for  a  few  hours  after  he  got  back.  N"ot  even  Baby 
Belle  s  accents  could  be  heard  amid  that  roar  and  whir.  But 
at  luncheon -time,  while  waiting  for  his  order  to  be  filled  at  a 
restaurant,  the  dreary,  solitary  void  overtook  him — a  fit  of 
unmistakable  home-sickness,  that  yet  caused  him  to  recoil  at 


176  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

the  idea  of  entering  the  deserted  house  un-town,  when  even- 
ing should  oblige  him  to  seek  a  lodging.  How  Avere  Sarah 
and  baby -getting  along  without  him  ?  He  was  afraid  that 
jiicy  was  not,  in  all  respects,  as  congenial  a  companion  aa 
e  could  have  wished  his  wife  to  have,  and  that  Mrs.  Hunt's 
undisguised  worldliness,  her  foolish  love  of  fashion  and  dis« 
play,  would  often  annoy  and  mortify  her  sensible  and  right- 
nidging  daughter.  Benson  was  capital  company,  though — 
a  gentleman  every  inch  of  him!  and  very  friendly  to  Sarah. 
But  for  her  reserved  manners  he  would  act  the  part  of  a 
real  brother  to  her ;  in  any  case,  he  would  be  kind,  and  see 
that  she  wanted  for  nothing. 

Then — shot  into  his  head  by  some  unseen  and  unaccount- 
able machinery — there  darted  across  his  mind  a  fragment  of 
a  conversation  he  had  overheard,  at  entering  his  parlor,  the 
day  before  the  Bensons  left.  Philip  and  Lucy  were  standing 
before  a  miniature  painting  of  Sarah  and  her  child,  completed 
and  brought  home  a  short  time  previous.  Although  seem- 
ingly intent  upon  the  picture,  their  conversation  must  have 
strayed  far  from  the  starting-point,  for  the  first  sentence  that 
reached  the  unintentional  listener  was  a  tart,  scornful  speech 
from  Lucy,  that  could  by  no  stretch  of  the  imagination  be 
made  to  apply  to  her  sister. 

"  If  you  admire  her  so  much,  why  did  you  not  marry  her 
when  you  had  the  opportunity  ?  She  was  willing  enough !" 

"  Take  care  you  do  not  make  me  regret  that  I  did  not  do 
BO  !"  was  Philip's  stern  rejoinder  as  he  turned  from  her. 

The  change  of  position  showed  him  that  Lewis  was  pres- 
ent, and  for  a  second  his  inimitable  self-possession  wavered. 
Recovering  himself,  he  reverted  to  the  picture,  and  called 
upon  his  host  to  decide  some  disputed  point  in  its  artistic  ex- 
ecution which  he  and  Lucy  were  discussing. 

"Poor  fellow!  he  has  learned  that  all  is  not.  gold  that  glit- 
ters !"  mused  Lewis  to  the  newspaper  he  was  pretending  to 


HUSKS.  177 

read.  "Lucy  had  a  high  reputation  for  amiability  before 
she  was  Mrs.  Benson.  There  is  no  touchstone  like  the  wed 
ding-ring  to  bring  out  one's  true  qualities." 

He  sat  with  his  back  to  the  entrance  of  the  saloon,  and 
the  table  directly  behind  him  was  now  taken  possession  of 
by  three  or  four  new  arrivals — all  gentlemen,  and  apparently 
on  familiar  terms  with  one'  another.  They  called  for  a  boun- 
tiful lunch,  including  wine,  and  plunged  into  a  lively,  rather 
noisy  talk.  Lewis  closed  his  ears,  and  applied  himself  in 
earnest  to  his  paper.  He  started  presently  at  a  word  he 
could  have  declared  was  his  name.  Restraining  the  impulse 
to  look  around  and  see  who  of  the  group  was  known  to  him, 
he  yet  could  not  help  trying  to  determine  this  point  by 
their  voices.  One,  a  thin  falsetto,  he  fancied  belonged  to 
George  Bond,  who  was  no  more  of  a  favorite  with  him  than 
was  his  better  half  with  Sarah.  Lewis  regarded  him  as  a 
conceited  rattle-pate,  whose  sole  talent  lay  in  the  art  of 
making  money — whose  glory  was  his  purse.  "  Why  should 
he  be  talking  about  me  here  ?.  Nonsense ;  I  was  mistaken !" 
and  another  page  of  the  newspaper  was  turned. 

"  When  I  leave  my  wife  at  Newport,  or  anywhere  else, 
in  the  particular  and  brotherly  care  of  one  of  her  former 
flames)  publish  me  as  a  crazy  fool !"  said  the  wiry  voice 
again,  almost  in  the  reader's  ear. 

"  He  doesn't  know  old  stories  as  well  as  you  do,  perhaps," 
remarked  some  one. 

"  I  should  think  not !  When  my  wife  pulls  the  wool  over 
\ny  eyes  in  that  style,  horsewhip  me  around  town,  and  I 
won't  cry  '  Quarter !'  Sister's  husband  or  not,  I'll  be 
oanged  if  I  would  have  him  in  my  house  for  two  weeks,  and 
he  is  such  a  good-looking  dog,  too  !" 

He  stopped,  as  if  his  neighbor  had  jogged  him,  as  Lewis 
looked  over  his  shoulder  in  the  direction  of  the  gossip.  A 
dead  and  awkward  silence  ensued,  ended  at  last  by  the 
8* 


178  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OK, 

pertinent  observation  that  the  "  waiter  -was  a  lonf  time 
bringing  their  lunch." 

In  a  maze  of  angry  doubt  and  incredulity  as  to  the  evi- 
dence of  his  senses  and  suspicions,.  Lewis  finished  his  meal, 
and  stalked  out  past  the  subdued  and  now  voracious  quar 
tette,  favoring  them  with  a  searching  look  as  he  went  by, 
which  they  sustained  with  great  meekness.  All  the  after 
noon  a  heavy  load  lay  upon  his  heai't — an  indefinable  dread 
he  dared  not  analyze ;  a  forboding  he  would  not  face,  yet 
could  not  dismiss. 

"  You  are  blue,  Lewis !"  said  Mr.  Marlow,  kindly,  as  they 
started  up  town  together.  "  This  is  the  worst  of  having  a 
wife  and  children ;  you  miss  them  so  terribly  when  they  are 
away.  But  you  will  get  used  to  it.  Make  up  your  mind  at 
the  eleventh  hour  to  cross  the  water,  and  stay  abroad  three 
months.  You  will  be  surprised  to  find  how  easy  your  mind 
will  become  after  a  couple  of  weeks." 

"  I  am  satisfied,  sir,  without  making  personal  trial  of  the 
matter,  that  men  become  inured  to  misery,  which  seemed 
in  the  beginning  to  be  insupportable." 

Mr.  Marlow  laughed,  and  they  separated. 

Lewis  sighed  as  he  looked  up  at  the  blinds  of  his  house, 
shut  fast  and  grim,  and  still  more  deeply  as  he  admitted 
himself  to  the  front  hall,  that  echoed  dismally  the  sound  of 
the  closing  door.  His  next  movement  was  to  walk  into  the 
parlor,  throw  open  a  shutter,  and  let  in  the  evening  light 
upon  the  portraits  of  the  dear  absent  ones.  There  he  stood, 
scanning  their  faces — eyes  and  soul  full  of  love  and  long- 
Ing — until  the  mellow  glow  passed  away  and  left  them  in 
darkness. 

The  comfortless  evening  repast  was  over,  and  he  betook 
himself  to  the  library,  Sarah's  favorite  room,  as  it  was  also 
his.  Her  low  easy-chair  stood  in  its  usual  place  opposite 
his  at  the  centre-table,  but  her  work-basket  was  missing ; 


HUSKS.  179 

likewise  the  book,  with  its  silver  marker,  that  he  was  wont 
to  see  lying  side  by  side  with  some  volume  he  had  selected 
for  his  own  reading.  But  one  lay  there  now,  and  there  was 
an  odd  choking  in  his  throat  as  he  read  the  title  on  the 
back.  He  had  expressed  a  wish  for  it  in  Sarah's  hearing 
some  days  before,  and  her  delicate  forethought  had  left  it 
here  as  a  solace  and  keepsake,  one  that  should,  while  re- 
minding him  of  her,  yet  charm  away  sad  feelings  in  her 
absence.  Even  in  the  exterior  of  the  gift,  she  had  been  re- 
gardful of  his  taste.  The  binding  was  solid  and  rich ;  no 
gaudy  coloring  or  tawdry  gilt ;  the  thick  smooth  paper  and 
clear  type  were  a  luxury  to  touch  and  sight.  Lewis  was 
no  sentimentalist,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term,  yet 
he  kissed  the  name  his  wife  had  traced  upon  the  fly-leaf  ere 
he  sat  down  to  employ  the  evening  as  she  by  her  gift  tacitly 
requested  him  to  do.  But  it  was  a  useless  attempt.  The 
book  was  not  in  fault,  and  he  -should  have  read  it  intently, 
if  only  because  she  had  bestowed  it ;  still,  the  hand  that 
held  it  sank  lower  and  lower,  until  it  rested  upon  his  knee, 
and  the  reader  was  the  thinker  instead. 

The  most  prosaic  of  human  beings  have  their  seasons  of 
reverie — pleasing  or  mournful,  which  are,  unknown  often 
to  themselves,  the  poetry  of  their  lives.  Such  was  the 
drama  Lewis  Hammond  was  now  rehearsing  in  his  retro- 
Bpective  dreams. 

The  wan  and  weary  mother,  whom  he  remembered  as 
always  clothed  in  widow's  weeds,  and  toiling  in  painful 
drudgery  to  maintain  herself  and  her  only  boy;  who  had 
smiled  and  wept,  rendered  thanksgivings  and  uttered  prayers 
for  strength,  alternately,  as  she  heard  Mr.  Marlow's  propo- 
sal to  protect  and  help  the  lad  through  the  world  that  had 
borne  so  hardly  upon  her ;  who  had  strained  him  to  her 
bosom,  and  shed  fast,  hot  tears  of  speechless  anguish  at 
their  parting — a  farewell  that  was  never  to  be  forgotten  in 


180  TUE  EMPTY  IIE'AKT;    OR, 

any  meeting  on  this  side  of  eternity ;  this  was  the  vision, 
hers  the  palladium  of  love,  that  had  nerved  him  for  the  close 
wrestle  with  fortune,  guarded  him  amid  the  burning  plough- 
shares of  temptation,  carried  him  unscathed  past  the  hun- 
dred mouths  of  hell,  that  gape  upon  the  innocent  and  un- 
wary in  ail  large  cities.  Cold  and  unsusceptible  as  he  was 
deemed  in  society,  he  kept  unpolluted  in  his  breast  a  fresh 
living  stream  of  genuine  romantic  feeling,  "such  as  we  are 
apt  to  think  went  out  of  fashion — aye,  and  out  of  being — 
with  the  belted  knights  of  yore;  wealth  he  had  vowed 
never  to  squander,  never  reveal,  until  he  should  pour  it, 
without  one  thought  of  self-reserve,  upon  his  wife!  lie 
never  hinted  this  to  a  living  creature  before  the  moment 
came  for  revealing  it  to  the  object  of  his  choice.  He  was  a 
"  predestined  old  bachelor !"  an  "  infidel  to  love  and  the 
sex,"  said  and  believed  the  gay  and  frivolous,  and  he  let 
them  talk.  His  ideal  woman,  his  mother's  representative 
and  successor — the  beauty  and  crown  of  his  existence — was 
too  sacred  for  the  gaze  and  comment  of  indifferent  world- 
lings. For  her  he  labored  and  studied  and  lived;  confident 
in  a  fatalistic  belief  that,  at  the  right  moment,  the  dream 
would  become  a  reality — the  phantasm  leave  her  cloudy 
height  for  his  arms. 

Love  so  beautiful  and  intense  as  this,  like  snow  in  its 
purity,  like  fire  in  its  fervor,  cannot  be  won  to  full  and  elo- 
quent utterance  but  by  answering  love — a  sentiment  identi- 
cal in  kind,  if  not  equal  in  degree ;  and  Sarah  Hammond's 
estimate  of  her  husband's  affection  was,  in  consequence  of 
this  want  in  herself,  cruelly  unjust  in  its  coldness  and  pov- 
erty. His  patience  with  her  transient  fits  of  gloom  or  way- 
wardness  in  the  early  months  of  their  married  life;  his 
noble  forgetfulness  of  her  faults,  and  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment of  her  most  trifling  effort  to  please  him ;  his  unceasing 
care ;  his  lavish  bounty — all  these  she  attributed  too  much 


181 


to  natural  amiability  and  conscientious  views  of  duty ;  too 
little  to  his  warm  regard  for  her  personally.  In  this  per- 
suasion she  had  copied  his  conduct  in  externals  so  far  as  she 
could;  and  applauding  observers  adjudged  the  mock  gem 
to  be  a  fair  and  equitable  equivalent  for  the  rare  pearl  she 
had  received. 

Lest  this  digression,  into  which  I  have  been  inadvertently 
betrayed,  should  mislead  any  with  the  idea  that  I  havo 
some  design  of  dignifying  into  a  hero  this  respectable,  but 
very  commonplace  personage,  return  we  to  him  as  he  hears 
eleven  o'clock  rung  out  by  the  monitor  on  the  mantel,  and 
says  to  himself,  "  Baby  Belle  has  been  asleep  these' three 
hours,  and  mamma,  caring  nothing  for  beaux  and  ball-room, 
is  preparing  to  follow  her." 

Beaux  and  ball-room!  Pshaw!  why  should  the  nonsensi- 
cal talk  of  that  jacknapes,  George  Bond,  come  to  his  mind 
just  then  ?  The  whole  tenor  of  the  remarks  that  succeeded 
the  name  he  imagined  was  his  disproved  that  imagination. 
But  'who  had  left  his  wife  at  Newport  in  the  care  of  a 
"good-looking"  brother-in-law?  wAohad  been  domesticated 
in  the  family  of  the  deluded  husband  for  a  fortnight  ? 

Pshaw  again  !  What  concern  had  he  with  their  scandal- 
ous, doubtless  slanderous  tattle  ? 

"  Why  did  you  not  marry  her  when  you  had  the  oppor- 
tunity ?  She  was  willing  enough  !" 

Could  Lucy  have  spoken  thus  of  her  sister  ?  Sarah  was 
barely  acquainted  with  Philip  Benson  when  Lucy  wedded 
him,  having  met  him  but  once  prior  to  the  wedding-day  at 
the  house  of  her  aunt  in  the  country,  from  which  place  his 
own  letter,  penned  by  her  father's  sick-bed,  recalled  her. 
How  far  from  his  thoughts  then  was  the  rapid  train  of 
consequences  that  followed  upon  this  preliminary  act  of 
their  intercourse ! 

Did  that  scoundrel  Bond  say  "  Haniuioud  ?"     It  was  not 


182  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

ft  common  name,  and  came  quite  distinctly  to  his  ears  in  the 
high,  unpleasant  key  he  se  disliked.  A  flush  of  honest 
shame  arose  to  his  forehead  at  this  uncontrollable  straying 
of  his  ideas  to  a  topic  so  disagreeable,  and  so  often  rejected 
by  his  mind. 

"  As  if — even  had  I  been  the  person  insulted  by  his  pity — 
I  would  believe  one  syllable  he  said  of  a  woman  as  far  above 
him  in  virtue  and  intellect,  in  every  thing  good  and  lovable, 
as  the  heavens  are  above  the  earth !  I  would  despise  my- 
self as  much  as  I  do  him,  if  I  could  lend  my  ear  for  an  in- 
stant to  so  degrading  a  whisper !  I  wish  I  had  faced  him 
ftnd  demanded  the  whole  tale;  yet  no!  that  would  have 
been  rash  and  absurd.  Better  as  it  is !  By  to-morrow,  I 
shall  laugh  at,  my  ridiculous  fancies  !" 

"  Scratch !  scratch !  scratch !"  The  house  was  so  still  in 
the  approaching  midnight  that  the  slight  noise  caused  him 
a  shock  and  quiver  in  the  excited  state  of  his  nerves.  The 
interruption  was  something  between  a  scrape  and  a  rap, 
three  times  repeated,  and  proceeding,  apparently,  from  the 
bookcase  at  his  right.  What  could  it  be  ?  He  had  never 
seen  or  heard  of  a  mouse  on  the  premises,  nor  did  the  sound 
much  resemble  the  nibbling  of  that  animal.  Ashamed  of 
the  momentary  thrill  he  had  experienced,  he  remained  still 
and  collected,  awaiting  its  repetition. 

"  Scratch  !  scratch !  rap !"  It  was  in  the  bookcase — in 
the  lower  part  where  were  drawers  shut  in  by  solid  doors. 
These  he  had  never  explored,  but  knew  that  his  wife  kept 
pamphlets  and  papers  in  them.  He  opened  the  outer  doors 
cautiously,  and  listened  again,  until  assured  by  the  scratch- ' 
ing  that  his  search  was  in  the  right  direction.  There 
were  three  drawers,  two  deep,  the  third  and  upper  shal- 
low. This  he  drew  out  and  examined.  It  contained  wri- 
ting-paper and  envelopes,  all  in  good  order.  Nor  was  there 
any  sign  of  the  intruder  amongst  the  loose  music  and  peri- 


H  TJ  8  K  8 .  183 

odicals  in  the  second.  The  lower  one  was  looted — no 
doubt  accidentally,  for  he  had  never  seen  Sarah  lock  up 
any  thing  except  jewels  and  money.  Their  servants  were 
honest,  and  she  had  no  cause  to  fear  investigation  on  his  part, 

Feeling,  rather  than  arguing  thus,  he  removed  the  drawer 
above,  leaving  exposed  the  locked  one,  and  thrust  his  hand 
down  into  it.  It  encountered  the  polished  surface  of  a 
Email  box  or  case,  which  he  was  in  the  act  of  drawing 
through  the  aperture  left  by  the  second  drawer,  when  some- 
thing dark  and  swift  ran  over  his  hand  and  up  his  sleeve. 
With  a  violent  start,  he  dashed  the  casket  to  the  floor,  and 
another  energetic  fling  of  his  arm  dislodged  the  mouse.  His 
first  care  was  to  pursue  and  kill  it ;  his  next  to  examine  into 
the  damage  it  had  indirectly  produced.  The  box — ebony, 
lined  with  sandal-wood — had  fallen  with  such  force  as  to 
loosen  the  spring,  and  lay  on  its  side  wide  open ;  its  treas- 
ures strewed  over  the  carpet.  They  were  neither  numer- 
ous, nor  in  themselves  valuable.  A  bouquet  of  dried  flowers, 
enveloped  in  silver  papei1,  lay  nearest  Lewis's  hand,  as  he 
knelt  to  pick  up  the  scattered  articles.  The  paper  was  tied 
about  the  stalks  of  the  flowers  with  black  ribbon,  and  to  this 
was  attached  a  card  :  "  Will  Miss  Sarah  accept  this  trifling 
token  of  regard  from  one  who  is  her  stanch  friend,  and 
hopes,  in  time,  to  have  a  nearer  claim  upon  her  esteem  ?" 

The  hand  was  familiar  to  the  reader  as  Philip  Benson's. 
Why  should  Sarah  preserve  this,  while  the  many  floral  to- 
kens of  his  love  which  she  had  received  were  flung  away 
when  withered  like  worthless  weeds  ?  The  pang  of  jeal 
ousy  was  new — sharp  as  the  death-wrench  to  the  heart- 
strings, cruel  as  the  grave !  The  card  was  without  date,  or 
he  would  have  read,  with  a  different  apprehension  of  its 
meaning,  the  harmless  clause — "And  hopes  in  time  to  have 
a  nearer  claim  upon  her  esteem"  There  was  a  time,  then, 
when,  as  Lucy  had  taunted  her 'husband,  he  might  have 


184  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

married  her  sister !  when  Sarah  loved  him,  and  had  reason 
to  think  herself  beloved  in  return  !  What  was  this  sable 
badge  but  the  insignia  of  a  bereaved  heart,  that  mourned 
Btill  in  secret  the  faithlessness  of  her  early  love,  or  the  ad- 
verse fate  that  had  sundered  him  from  her,  and  given  him 
to  another  ? 

Crushing  the  frail,  dead  stems  in  his  hand,  he  threw  them 
back  into  the  box,  and  took  up  a  bit  of  dark  gray  wood, 
rough  on  one  side — smoothed  on  the  other  into  a  rude  tab- 
let. "Philip  Benson,  Deal  Beach,  July  21th,  1856.  Pensez 
d  moir  But  ten  days  before  he  met  her  at  the  wharf  in 
New  York  to  take  her  to  her  sick  father  !  but  three  months 
before  she  plighted  her  troth  to  him,  promised  to  wed  him, 
while  in  spirit  she  was  still  weeping  tears  of  blood  over  the 
inconstant !  for  he  did  not  forget  that  Philip's  engagement 
to  Lucy  preceded  his  own  to  Sarah  by  eight  or  nine  weeks. 
There  were  other  relics  in  the  box;  a  half-worn  glove, 
retaining  the  shape  of  the  manly  hand  it  had  inclosed — 
which,  he  learned  afterwards,  Philip  had  left  in  his  chamber 
at  the  farm-house  when  he  departed  to  seek  gayer  scenes ; 
a  white  shell,  upon  whose  rosy  lining  were  scratched  with 
the  point  of  a  knife  the  ominous  initials,  "  P.  B.,"  aud  be- 
neath them  "  S.  B.  II.,"  a  faded  rose-bud,  and  several  printed 
slips,  cut  from  the  columns  of  newspapers.  He  unfolded 
but  two  of  these. 

One  was  an  extract  from  Tennyson's  "Maud" — the  invi- 
tation to  the  garden.  Breathlessly,  by  reason  of  the  terrible 
stricture  tightening  around  his  heart,  Lewis  ran  his  6}  es 
over  the  charming  whimsical  morceau.  They  rested  upon 
and  reviewed  the  last  verse: 

"  She  is  coming — my  own,  my  sweet ! 

Were  it  ever  so  airy  a  tread, 
My  heart  would  hear  her  and  beat ; 
Were  it  earth  in  an  earthy  bed, 


HUSKS.  185 

"  My  dust  would  hear  her  and  beat ; 

Had  I  laid  for  a  century  dead, 
'    "Would  start  and  tremble  under  her  feet, 
And  blossom  in  purple  and  red." 

He  did  not  discriminate  now  between  printed  and  writ- 
ten varses.  These  were  love  stanzas  sent  by  another 
man  to  his  wife,  received  and  cherished  by  her,  hidden 
away  with  a  care  that,  in  itself,  bordered  on  criminality,  for 
was  not  its  object  the  deception  of  the  injured  husband  ? 
The  most  passionate  autograph  love-letter  could  hardly  have 
stabbed  him  more  keenly. 

The  other  was  Mrs.  Browning's  exquisite  "  Portrait." 
And  here  the  reader  can  have  an  explanation  the  tortured 
man  could  not  obtain.  With  the  acumen  for  which  Cupid's 
votaries  are  proverbial,  Philip  Benson,  then  at  the  "  summer 
heat"  degree  of  his  flame  for  the  Saratoga  belle,  had  recog- 
nized in  this  poem  the  most  correct  and  beautiful  description 
of  his  lady-love.  Curiosity  to  see  if  the  resemblance  were 
apparent  to  other  eyes,  and  a  desire  for  sympathy  tempted 
him  to  forward  it  to  Sarah.  She  must  perceive  the  likeness 
to  her  divine  sister,  and  surmise  the  sentiment  that  had  in- 
duced him  to  send  it.  A  little  alteration  in  the  opening 
Btanza  was  requisite  to  make  it  a  "  perfect  fit."  Thus  it 
was  when  the  change  was  made : — 

I  will  paint  her  as  I  see  her : 

times  have  the  lilies  blown 

Since  she  looked  upon  the  sun." 

The  poetess,  guiltless  of  any  intention  to  cater  for  the 
wants  of  grown-up  lovers,  had  written  "  Ten"  in  the  space 
made  blank  by  Philip's  gallantry  and  real  ignorance  of  his 
charmer's  age.  For  the  rest,  the  "lily-clear  face,"  the  "  fore- 
head fair  and  saintly,"  the  "  trail  of  golden  hair,"  the  blue 
eyes,  "  like  meek  prayers  before  a  shrine,"  the  voice  that 


186  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

"  Murmurs  lowly 
As  a  silver  stream  may  run, 
Which  yet  feels  you  feel  the  sun," 

were,  we  may  safely  assert,  quite  as  much  like  poor  Sarah, 
when  he  sent  the  poem,  as  they  were  now  like  the  portrait 
he  would — if  put  upon  his  oath — sketch  of  his  unidealized 
Lucy. 

It  was  not  unnatural  then,  in  Lewis  Hammond,  to  over- 
look in  his  present  state,  these  glaring  discrepancies  in  the 
picture  as  applied  by  him.  With  a  blanched  and  rigid  coun- 
tenance he  put  all  the  things  back  into  the  box,  shut  it,  and 
restored  it  to  its  place.  Then  he  knelt  on  the  floor  and  hid 
his  face  in  his  wife's  chair ;  and  there  struggled  out  into  the 
still  air  of  the  desecrated  home-temple,  made  sacred  by  his 
love  and  her  abiding,  deep  sobs  from  the  strong  man's 
stricken  heart — a  grief  as  much  more  fearful  than  that  of 
widowhood,  as  the  desertion  and  dishonor  of  th")  loved  one 
are  worse  than  death. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IT  was  the  "grand  hop"  night  at  the  head-quarters  of 
Newport  fashion.  Sarah,  characteristically  indifferent  to 
gayeties  "made  to  order,"  had  determined  not  to  appear 
below.  The  air  of  her  room  was  fresh  and  pure,  and  a  book, 
yet  unread,  lay  under  the  lamp  upon  her  table.  Her  sister 
and  mother  had  withdrawn  to  dress,  when  Jeannie's  curly 
head  peeped  in  at  Mrs.  Hammond's  door.  Her  features 
wore  a  most  woe-begone  expression. 

"  What  has  gone  wrong,  Jeannie  ?"  inquired  Sarah. 

"  Why,  mamma  says  that  I  will  be  in  her  way  if  I  go  into 
the  ball-room ;  and  it  will  be  so  stupid  to  stay  out  the  whole 
evening,  while  all  the  other  girls  can  see  the  dancing  and 
dresses,  and  hear  the  music.  And  sister  Lucy  says  that  chil- 
dren are  'bores'  in  company." 

"  A  sad  state  of  things,  certainly !  Perhaps  I  may  per- 
suade mother  to  let  you  go." 

"Yes;  but  if  she  does,  she  will  sit  close  against  the  wall  with 
a  lot  of  other  fat  old  ladies,  and  they  will  talk  over  my  head, 
and  squeeze  me  almost  to  death,  besides  rumpling  my  dress ; 
and  I  so  want  to  wear  my  tucked  pink  grenadine,  sister !" 

"  And  you  would  like  to  have  me  go  down  with  you ;  is 
that  it?" 

Jeannie's  eyes  beamed  delightedly.  "  Oh,  if  you  only 
would !" 

Sarah  looked  down  into  the  eager  face  and  saw,  in  antici 
pation,  her  own  little  Belle  imploring  some  boon,  as  impor 


188  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

tant  to  her,  as  easy  to  be  granted  by  another  as  this,  and 
consented  with  a  kiss. 

"  Run  away  and  bring  your  finery  here !  Mother  is  too 
busy  to  attend  to  you.  Mary  can  dress  you." 

The  order  was  obeyed  with  lightning  speed ;  and  Sarah, 
still  beholding  in  the  excited  child  the  foreshadowing  of  her 
darling's  girlhood,  superintended  the  toilet,  while  she  made 
herself  ready. 

"What  shall  I  wear,  Jeannie?"  she  asked,  carelessly, 
holding  open  the  door  of  her  wardrobe. 

"  Oh,  that  lovely  fawn-colored  silk,  please  !  the  one  with 
the  black  lace  flounces !  It  is  the  prettiest  color  I  ever  saw; 
and  I  heard  Mrs.  Greyling  tell  another  lady  the  night  you 
wore  it,  when  brother  Lewis  was  here,  you  know,  that  it 
was  one  of  the  richest  dresses  in  the  room,  modest  as  it 
looked,  and  that  the  flounces  must  have  cost  a  penny!" 

"  Probably  more !" 

Sarah  proceeded  to  array  herself  in  the  fortunate  robe 
that  had  won  the  praises  of  the  fashionably  distinguished 
Mrs.  Greyling.  Her  abundant  dark  hair  was  lighted  by  two 
coral  sprigs,  which  formed  the  heads  of  her  hair-pins,  and, 
handkerchief  and  gloves  in  hand,  she  was  taking  a  last  sur- 
vey of  Jeannie's  more  brilliant  costume,  when  there  came  a 
knock  at  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Benson  !"  said  Mary,  unclosing  it. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?"  he  asked. 

The  tidy  Mary  had  removed  all  trace  of  the  recent  tiring 
operations  from  the  apartment,  which  was  a  compound  of 
parlor  and  dressing-room,  a  necessary  adjunct  to  the  small 
chamber  and  smaller  nursery,  leading  out  of  it,  at  the  side 
and  rear. 

"  You  may !"  replied  Sarah.  "  Here  is  an  aspirant  for 
ball-room  honors,  who  awaits  your  approval"." 

Mademoiselle,  que  vous  etes  charmante !     I  am  pene- 


HUSKS.  189 

trated  with  profound  admiration!"  exclaimed  the  teasing 
brother-in-law,  raising  his  hands  in  true  melodramatic  style. 

Jeannie  laughed  and  blushed  until  her  cheeks  matched 
the  grenadine. 

"  Mrs.  Hunt  told  me  that  you  had  changed  your  mind, 
and  intended  to  grace  the  festive  scene  with  your  presence," 
continued  Philip,  addressing  Sarah.  "  She  and  Lucy  are 
there,  and  the  dancing  has  begun.  I  came  to  escort  you 
and  our  fair  debutante  here — that  is,  unless  some  one  else 
has  offered  his  services  and  been  accepted." 

"  That  is  not  likely,  since  Mr.  Hammond  left  us  in  your 
care.  Do  not  your  fourfold  duties  oppress  you  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least.  If  all  my  charges  were  as  chary  of 
their  calls  upon  me  as  you  are,  my  time  would  hang  heavily 
upon  my  hands.  No  one  would  imagine,  from  your  reluc- 
tance to  be  waited  upon,  that  you  had  been  spoiled  at  home. 
If  Mr.  Hammond  were  here  now,  he  would  tell  you  to  draw 
that  shawl — " 

"  It  is  an  opera  cloak !"  interrupted  Jeannie. 

"  A  ball-cloak  to-night,  then,  is  it  not  ?  I  was  saying  that, 
although  the  night  is  not  cool  for  sea  air,  you  had  better 
wrap  that  mantle  about  your  chest  and  throat  as  we  go 
out." 

Just  outside  the  door  a  waiter  passed  them  with  a  note 
in  his  hand.  He  stopped,  on  seeing  Philip. 

•"  Mr.  Benson !  I  was  on  my  way  to  your  rooms  with  this, 
sir." 

Philip  stepped  back  within  the  parlor  to  read  it  by  the 
Jigtit.  It  was  a  line  from  a  friend  who  had  just  arrived 
at  another  hotel,  notifying  him  of  this  fact.  It  required  no 
reply,  and  leaving  it  upon  the  table,  he  rejoined  his  com- 
panions. 

"  See  mamma !  Isn't  it  just  as  I  said  ?"  whispered  Jean- 
nie, as  she  established  herself  beside  her  sister  in  a  comfort- 


190  THE    EMPTY    HEAKTJ     OB, 

able  corner  that  commanded  a  view  of  the  spacious  hall  and 
its  gay,  restless  sea  of  figures. 

Sarah  smiled  at  discovering  her  mother  sandwiched  be- 
tween  two  portly  dowagers ;  one  in  purple,  the  other  in 
lavender  silk;  all  three  bobbing  and  waving  in  their  ear- 
nest confabulations,  in  a  style  that  presented  a  ludicrously 
marked  resemblance  to  the  gesticulations  of  a  group  ol 
Muscovy  ducks,  on  the  margin  of  a  mud-puddle,  held  by 
them  in  their  capacity  of  a  joint-stock  company. 

"  I  see  tliat  Lucy  has  taken  the  floor,"  observed  Philip. 
"  She  will  not  thank  me  for  any  devoirs  I  could  render  her 
for  the  next  three  hours.  If  they  get  up  any  thing  so  hum- 
drum as  quadrilles,  may  I  ask  the  pleasure  of  your  company 
for  the  set  ?" 

'  If  you  wish  it — and  my  dress  is  not  too  grave  in  /me— " 

"  And  too  decorous  in  its  make,  you  were  about  to  add, 
I  presume :"  he  finished  the  sentence  bluntly.  "  It  forms  a 
refreshing  contrast  to  the  prevailing  style  around  us." 

Lucy  here  flitted  into  sight,  and  her  very  bare  arras  and 
shoulders  pointed  her  husband's  strictures.  A  stool,  brought 
into  the  room  for  the  use  of  some  child  or  invalid  looker-on 
of  the  festivities,  now  stood  empty  under  Sarah's  chair,  and 
Philip,  espying  it,  seized  upon  and  drew  it  forth.  When 
seated,  his  mouth  was  nearly  on  a  level  with  Sarah's  ear. 

"  This  is  pleasant !"  he  said.  "  We  are  quite  as  much 
isolated  from  the  rest  of  mankind  as  if  we  were  sitting 
among  the  heathery  hillocks  on  Deal  Beach.  You  do  not 
love  the  visions  of  those  tranquil  sunny  days  as  I  do.  You 
never  allude  to  them  voluntarily.  Yet  you  have  had  less  to 
convert  your  dreams  into  every-day  actualities,  tedious  and 
prosaic,  than  I  have.  I  stand  in  direful  need  of  one  of  the 
old ,  lectures,  inculcating  moi-e  charity,  and  less  study  of 
complex  motives  and  biassed  tendencies  in  the  machine  we 
call  Man.  Begin !  I  am  at  your  mercy." 


HTJSKS.  191 

"I  have  forgotten  how  to  deliver  them.  I  am  out  of 
practice." 

"That  is  not  surprising.  Your  husband  is  behind  tht 
age  he  lives  in — and  so  are  you.  You  two  would  makt 
Karnum's  fortune,  could  he  ever  persuade  the  public  of 
y  jur  idiosyncrasies." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?" 

"  Look  around  and  through  this  room ,  and  you  will  un 
derstand  one  part  of  my  meaning.  Do  you  remark  tht 
preponderance  of  married  over  single  belles  ?  and  that  tha 
most  tenderly  deferential  cavaliers  are  husbands,  and  not 
dancing  with  their  wives  ?  I  could  point  out  to  you  three 
men,  leaders  of  the  ton  in  this  extremely  reputable,  emi- 
nently moral  assembly,  who,  it  is  whispered  among  the 
knowing  ones,  are  married,  and,  having  left  their  domestic 
associations  for  a  season  of  recreation,  boldly  attach  them- 
selves to  certain  stylish  young  ladies  here,  and  challenge 
observation,  defy  public  censure,  by  their  marked  and  in- 
creasing devotion.  I  meet  them  strolling  along  the  beach 
in  the  morning ;  1'iding  together  in  the  afternoon ;  and 
when  not  engaged  in  this  evening  exhibition  of  toilet  and 
muscle,  you  will  find  them  pacing  the  moon  or  star-lit  pi- 
azza, or,  perchance,  again  sentimentalizing  on  the  shore  until 
the  witching  hour  draws  near." 

"  You  surprise  me !" 

"  You  have  no  right  to  be  surprised.  You  have  the  same 
thing  continually  before  you  in  your  city.  Every  fashion- 
able hotel  or  boarding-house  can  supply  you  with  such 
flirtations  by  the  dozen.  A  married  woman  who  declines 
the  polite  services  of  all  gentlemen,  except  her  husband 
and  near  relatives,  is  a  prude,  with  false  scruples  of  propri 
ety  and  delicacy.  Let  her  legal  partner  complain — he  is 
cried  out  upon  as  a  despot,  and  you  can  trust  the  sweet  an 
gol  of  an  abused  wife  to  elude  his  vigilance — violence,  she 


192  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

terms  it — for  the  future,  without  altering  her  conduct 
in  aught  else.  Do  you  see  that  pretty  woman  in  blue — the 
one  with  the  madonna-like  face  ?  Her  tyrant  is  here  but 
once  a  week — from  Saturday  until  Monday — then  hies  Lack 
to  the  business  he  loves  as  well  as  she  does  her  pleasure. 
Monday,  Tuesday,  Wednesday,  Thursday,  Friday,  and  the 
forenoon  of  Saturday,  any  mustachioed  puppy  may  walk 
talk,  drive,  and  flirt  with  her — bask  in  the  rays  of  those 
liquid  orbs.  When  the  rightful  lord  appears,  she  is  demure 
as  a  nun,  patient  as  a  saint,  dutiful  as  Griselda,  to  him  and 
him  alone.  Do  you  begin  to  understand  why  I  congratu- 
lated you  upon  having  a  husband  of  the  olden  stamp  ?  why, 
I  do  from  my  heart  felicitate  my  friend  Hammond  upon 
having  gained,  as  a  helpmeet,  one  of  that  nearly  obsolete 
species — Woman !" 

Sarah's  embarrassment  was  painful,  and  but  indifferently 
concealed.  She  felt  that  it  was  barely  excusable,  in  consid- 
eration of  his  fraternal  relation  to  her,  for  Philip  to  speak  so 
plainly  of  this  social  blemish ;  and  altogether  unpardonable, 
while  he  did  not,  or  could  not,  prevent  his  wife's  participation 
in  the  questionable  gayeties  he  assailed  so  unsparingly.  Re- 
ply she  could  not,  without  implicating  Lucy  in  her  reproba- 
tion, and  he  must  perceive  her  difficulty.  This  was  the 
trouble  that  lay  uppermost.  At  her  heart's  core,  the  uneasy 
feeling  she  ever  experienced  in  conversation  with  him ;  the 
stirring  of  the  entombed  love,  of  whose  actual  death  she 
had  horrible  misgivings ;  the  incongruous  blending  of  past 
emotion  with  present  duty,  were  now  aggravated  by  the 
enforced  acceptance  of  unmerited  praise.  Her  woman's 
instinct,  her  experience  as  a  wife,  told  her  that  the  cause  of 
the  sinful  recklessness,  the  contempt  of  the  true  spirit  of 
the  marriage  tie,  was  not  the  fruit  merely  of  the  vanity  and 
thirst  for  adulation,  to  which  it  was  properly  attributed. 
With  the  recollection  of  her  own  life,  the  education  she  had 


HUSKS.  193 

received  at  home,  the  hateful,  yet,  even  to  her  independent 
spirit,  resistless  decrees  of  society,  there  swelled  up  within 
her  bosom  something  akin  to  Philip's  bitter  cynicism.  Un- 
der this  spur,  she  spoke. 

"  Aud  from  these  signs  of  the  times,  you  would  argue  an 
inherent  degeneracy  of  womanhood — a  radical  change  in  its 
composition,  such  as  some  anatomists  tell  us  has  taken  place 
in  the  structure  of  our  bodies — our  blood — our  very  teeth. 
A  dentist,  who  filled  a  tooth  for  me  the  other  day,  imparted 
divers  scientific  items  of  information  to  me  that  may  illus- 
trate your  position.  '  Enamel,  madam,  is  not  what  enamel 
was  in  the  days  of  our  ancestors !'  he  affirmed  pathetically  ; 
'  the  color,  the  very  ingredients  of  the  bone,  the  calcareous 
base  of  the  teeth,  differ  sadly  from  the  indestructible  molars 
of  fifty  years  ago.'  At  this  passage  of  his  jererniade,  he 
chanced  to  touch  the  nerve  in  the  unhappy  '  molar '  he  was 
excavating,  and  I  am  persuaded  that  I  suffered  as  really 
as  my  grandmother  would  have  done,  had  she  sat  in  my 
place." 

She  paused,  and  beat  time  with  her  fingers  on  Jeannie's 
shoulder  to  the  wild,  varying  waltz  that  swept  the  giddy 
crowd  around  the  room  in  fast  and  flyiug  circles. 

"  Your  analogy  asserts,  then,  that  at  heart  women  are 
alike  in  all  ages  ?" 

"  Why  not,  as  well  as  men  ?" 

"  Then  why  does  not  action  remain  the  same,  if  that  be 
true  ?" 

"  Because  custom — fashion,  if  you  prefer  this  name — at 
unaccountable,  irresponsible  power — owing  its  birth  often- 
est  to  accident  or  caprice,  says,  '  Do  this  !'  and  it  is  done ! 
be  it  to  perpetrate  a  cravat-bow,  a  marriage,  or  a  murder !" 

Another   pause — in    which    music   and    dancers   seemed 
sweeping   on   to   sweet    intoxication — so    joyous   in   their 
abandon  were  the  gushing  strains ;  so  swift  the  whirl  of 
9 


194  THE    EMPTY    HEART;    OB, 

the  living  ring.  The  fingers  played  lightly  and  rapidly  oq 
Jeanuie's  plump  shoulder — then  rested  on  a  half-beat. 

"  Yes !"  She  was  looking  towards  the  crowd,  but  her  eye 
was  fixed,  and  her  accents  slow  and  grave.  "  Hearts  live 
and  hearts  love,  while  time  endures.  The  heart  selects  ita 
mate  in  life's  spring-time,  with  judgment  as  untaught  as 
that  of  the  silly  bird  that  asks  no  companion  but  the  one 
the  God  of  Nature  has  bestowed  upon  it.  But  see  you  not, 
my  good  brother " — she  faced  him,  a  smile  wreathing  her 
lip — a  strange  glitter  in  her  eye — "  see  you  not  to  what 
woeful  disorders  these  untrained  desires,  this  unsophisticated 
following  out  of  unregulated  affections  would  give  rise  ?  It 
would  sap  the  foundations  of  caste ;  level  all  wholesome  dis- 
tinctions of  society;  consign  the  accomplished  daughters  of 
palatial  halls — hoary  with  a  semi-decade  of  years — to  one- 
story  cottages  and  a  maid-of-all  work;  doom  nice  young 
men  to  the  drudgery  of  business  for  the  remainder  of  their 
wretched  lives,  to  maintain  wives  whose  dowries  would  not 
keep  their  lily-handed  lords  in  French  kids  for  a  year ;  cover 
managing  mammas  with  ignomiuy,  and  hasten  ambitious  pa- 
pas to  their  costly  vaults  in — as  Dickens  has  it — '  some  gen- 
teel place  of  interment.'  Come  what  may  of  blasted  hopes 
and  wrecked  hearts,  the  decencies  of  life  must  be  observed. 
Every  heart  has  its  nerve — genuine,  sensitive,  sometimes 
vulgarly  tenacious  of  life — but  there  are  corrosives  that  will 
eat  it  out ;  fine,  deadly  wires,  that  can  probe  and  torture 
and  extract  it.  And  when  the  troublesome  thing  is  finally 
gotten  rid  of,  there  is  an  end  to  all  obstacles  to  judicious 
courtships  and  eligible  alliances !"  She  laughed  scornfully, 
and  Philip  recoiled,  without  knowing  why  he  did  so,  as  he 
heard  her. 

"  That  is  all  very  well,  when  the  nature  of  the  contract  ia 
understood  on  both  sides,"  he  said,  gloomily.  "  I  doubt, 
however,  whether  the  beautiful  economy  of  your  systei* 


HUSKS.  195 

will  be  appreciated  by  those  whose  living  hearts  are  bound 
to  the  bloodless  plaster-casts  you  describe." 

"  These  accidents  will  occur  in  spite  of  caution  on  the 
part  of  the  best  managers  of  suitable  marriages.  By  far 
the  larger  proportion  of  the  shocks  inflicted  uppn  polite  cir- 
cles arise  from  this  very  cause.  Pygmalion  grows  weary 
of  wooing  his  statue,  and  wants  sympathy  in  his  disappoint- 
ment and  loneliness." 

The  dance  was  ended.  The  fantastic  variations  of  the 
waltz  were  exchanged  for  a  noble  march — pealing  through 
the  heated  rooms  like  a  rush  of  the  healthful  sea-breeze. 
The  spark  died  in  Sarah's  eye.  Her  voice  took  its  habit- 
ual pitch. 

"  I  have  permitted  myself  to  become  excited,  and,  I  am 
afraid,  have  said  many  things  that  I  had  no  right  to  think — 
much  less  to  utter.  If  my  freedom  has  displeased  you,  I  am 
sorry." 

"  The  error — if  error  there  were — was  mine,"  rejoined 
Philip.  "I  led  the  conversation  into  the  channel;  you,  af- 
ter awhile,  followed.  I  believe  there  is  no  danger  of  our 
misunderstanding  each  other." 

"  Darby  and  Joan  !  good  children  in  the  corner !"  cried 
Lucy,  flushed  with  exercise  and  radiant  with  good  humor, 
as  she  promenaded  past  them  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  young 
West  Pointer,  a  native  Southerner  and  an  acquaintance  of 
Philip's.  If  his  wife  must  flirt  and  frolic,  he  was  watchful 
that  she  did  not  compromise  him  by  association  with  doubt- 
ful characters.  On  several  occasions,  the  advances  of  gay 
gentlemen,  whose  toilets  were  more  nearly  irreproachable 
than  their  reputations,  had  been  checked  by  his  cool  and 
significant  resumption  of  the  husband's  post  beside  the 
belle,  and,  if  need  existed,  by  the  prompt  withdrawal  of 
the  unwilling  lady  from  the  scene.  The  cadet  laughed,  and, 
convinced  that  she  had  said  a  witty  thing,  Lucy  swam  by. 


196  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

"  The  common  sense  of  our  tropes,  rodomontades,  and  al- 
legories is  this  !"  said  Philip,  biting  his  lip,  and  speaking  in 
a  hard  tone.  "  The  only  safe  ground  in  marriage  is  mutual, 
permanent  affection.  You  meant  to  convey  the  idea  that  if 
each  of  these  dressy  matrons,  humming  around  our  ears, 
had  a  sincere,  abiding  love  for  her  husband — and  each  01 
these  gallant  Benedicts  the  right  kind  of  regard  for  his 
wedded  Beatrice,  the  vocation  of  us  corner  censors  would 
be  gone?" 

"  Well  said,  Mr.  Interpreter !"  she  responded,  in  affected 
jest. 

"  This  point  settled,  will  you  take  my  arm  for  a  turn 
through  the  room  before  the  next  set  is  formed  ?  They  are 
talking  of  quadrilles.  I  shall  claim  your  promise  if  a  set  is 
made  up,  unless  you  are  not  courageous  enough  to  brave  the 
public  sneer  by  dancing  with  your  brother.  Come,  Jeanuie, 
and  walk  with  us." 

Two  sets  of  quadrilles  were  arranged  at  different  ends  of 
the  saloon.  Philip  led  Sarah  through  one,  with  Lucy — 
who  considered  it  a  capital  joke — and  her  partner  vis-d-vis 
to  them,  Jeannie,  meanwhile,  remaining  by  her  mother. 

The  summer  nights  were  short ;  and,  when  the  dance  was 
over,  Sarah  intimated  to  her  younger  sister  the  propriety 
of  retiring.  Mrs.  Hunt's  head  ached,  and  she  esteemed  the 
sacrifice  comparatively  light,  therefore,  that  she,  too,  had  to 
leave  the  revels  and  accompany  the  child  to  her  chamber. 
Sarah's  apartments  were  on  the  same  floor,  several  doors 
further  on.  Having  said  "  Good-night "  to  the  others,  she 
and  Philip  walked  slowly  along  the  piazza,  light  as  day  in 
the  moonbeams,  until  they  reached  her  outer  room,  the 
parlor. 

"  I  hope  you  will  experience  no  ill  effects  from  your  dis- 
sipation," said  Philip,  in  playful  irony.  "  In  a  lady  of  your 
Btaid  habits,  this  disposition  to  gayety  is  alarming.  Abso- 


HUSKS.  197 

lutely  eleven  o'clock !  What  will  Hammond  say  when  he 
hears  the  story  ?  Good-night !  Don't  let  your  conscience 
keep  you  awake !" 

Sarah  opened  the  door  softly,  that  she  might  not  startle 
the  baby-sleeper  in  the  inner  room.  The  lamp  was  shining 
brightly,  and  by  it  sat — her  husband ! 


198  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

LEWIS  had  entered  his  wife's  room  within  fifteen  minutes 
after  she  left  it.  He  looked  so  ill  and  weary  that  the 
girl,  Mary,  gave  a  stifled  scream  of  fright  and  surprise. 

"  Are  you  sick,  sir  ?"  she  asked  hastily,  as  he  threw  off 
his  hat,  and  wiped  his  pale  forehead.  "  Shall  I  tell  Mrs. 
Hammond  that  you  are  here  ?  She  went  down  to  the  ball- 
room awhile  ago." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?     No  !"  replied  he,  shortly. 

His  frown,  rather  than  his  tone,  silenced  her.  He  had 
picked  up  the  envelope  Philip  had  dropped  on  the  table, 
and  his  face  darkened  still  more.  Too  proud  to  question  a 
servant  of  her  mistress'  actions  and  associates,  he  believed 
that  he  had  gathered  from  this  mute  witness  all  that  was 
needful  to  know.  As  a  privileged  habitue,  of  the  cosy  bou- 
doir he  had  been  at  such  pains  to  procure  and  make  fit  for 
his  wife's  occupancy,  another  had  sat  here  and  read  his 
evening  mail,  while  awaiting  her  leisure ;  careless  of  ap- 
pearances, since  the  deceived  one  would  not  be  there  to 
notice  them,  had  tossed  this  note  down  with  as  much  free- 
dom as  he  would  have  done  in  his  own  apartment. 

Through  the  open  windows  poured  the  distant  strains  of 
the  band  ;  and,  seized  by  a  sudden  thought,  he  caught  up 
bis  hat  and  strode  out,  along  piazzas  and  through  halls,  to 
the  entrance-door  of  the  ball  saloon.  As  Sarah's  ill-fortune 
ordained  it,  the  piercing  glance  that  ran  over  and  beyond 
•he  crowd  of  spectators  and  dancers  detected  her  at  the  in« 


HUSKS.  199 

stant  of  Philip's  taking  his  lowly  seat  at  her  side.  Jeannie's 
pink  attire  was  concealed  by  the  drapery  of  a  lady,  whose 
place  in  the  set  then  forming  was  directly  in  front  of  her. 
Lewis  saw  but  the  two,  virtually  Ute-d-tete  ;  and,  as  he  ob- 
tained fleeting  glimpses  of  them  through  the  shifting  throng, 
marked  Philip's  energetic,  yet  confidential  discourse,  and 
the  intentness  with  which  she  listened,  until,  warmed  or  ex 
cited  by  his  theme,  Sarah  lifted  her  downcast  eyes  and 
spoke,  with  what  feeling  and  effect  her  auditor's  varying 
expression  showed. 

The  gazer  stood  there  like  a  statue,  unheeding  the  sur- 
prised and  questioning  looks  cast  by  passers-by  upon  his 
travelling-dress,  streaked  with  dust — his  sad  and  settled 
visage,  so  unbefitting  the  scene  within — while  Philip  made 
the  tour  of  the  room,  with  Sarah  upon  his  arm,  until  they 
took  their  stations  for  the  dance ;  he,  courteous  and  atten- 
tive— she,  smiling  and  happy,  more  beautiful  in  her  hus 
band's  eyes  than  her  blonde  sister  opposite ;  and  he  could 
stay  no  longer.  If  Mary  had  thought  him  sick  and  cross 
at  his  former  entrance,  she  considered  him  savage  now,  for 
one  who  was  ordinarily  a  kind  and  gentle  master. 

"  You  can  go  to  your  room !"  he  ordered,  not  advised. 
"  I  will  sit  up  for  Mrs.  Hammond  !" 

"  I  have  slept  in  the  nursery,  sir,  while  you  were  away." 

"  That  cannot  be  to-night.  I  will  find  you  some  other 
place." 

He  had  no  intention  that  the  anticipated  conversation 
with  his  wife  should  be  overheard. 

"  I  can  stay  with  a  friend  of  mine,  sir,  only  a  few  door 
off." 

"Very  well!" 

Quickly  and  quietly  the  nurse  arranged  the  night-lamp 
and  the  child's  food,  that  her  mistress  might  have  no  trouble 
during  her  absence,  and  went  out. 


UOU  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OK, 

Baby  Belle  slumbered  on,  happily  wandering  through  the 
guileless  mazes  of  baby  dream-land ;  one  little  arm,  bared 
from  the  sleeve  of  her  gown,  thrown  above  her  head — the 
\iand  of  the  other  cradling  her  cheek.  The  father  ventured 
to  press  a  light  kiss  upon  the  red  lips.  In  his  desolation, 
he  craved  this  trifling  solace.  The  child's  face  was  con- 
torted by  an  expression  of  discomfort,  and,  still  dreaming, 
she  murmured,  in  her  inarticulate  language,  some  pettish 
expression  of  disgust. 

"  My  very  child  shrinks  from  me !  It  is  in  the  blood  !" 
said  the  unhappy  man,  drawing  back  from  the  crib. 

If  his  resolution  had  waned  at  sight  of  the  sleeper,  it  was 
fixed  again  when  he  returned  to  his  chair  in  the  outer  room. 
He  raised  his  head  from  his  folded  arms  when  he  heard 
Philip  and  Sarah  approaching,  but  did  not  otherwise  alter 
his  position.  The  low  tone  of  their  parting  words — one 
soon  learned  by  the  sojourners  in  hotels  and  watering-places, 
where  thin  partitions  and  ventilators  abound — was,  to  him, 
the  cautiously  repressed  voice  of  affectionate  good-nights. 
But  one  clause  was  distinct — "What  will  Hammond  say, 
when  he  hears  the  story  ?"  They  jested  thus  of  him,  then. 
One  of  them,  at  least,  should  learn  ere  long  what  he  would 
say. 

"  Lewis  !  you  here !" 

Sarah  changed  color  with  amazement  and  vague  alarm — 
emotion  that  paralyzed  her  momentarily.  Then,  as  she  dis- 
cerned the  tokens  of  disorder  in  his  dress  and  countenance, 
she  hurried  forward. 

;'  What  has  brought  you  so  unexpectedly  ?  Are  you 
sick?  Has  any  thing  happened  ?" 

He  did  not  rise ;  and,  resting  her  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
she  stooped  for  a  kiss.  But  his  stern  gaze  never  moved 
from  hers — anxious  and  inquiring — and  his  lips  were  like 
stone. 


201 


"  Lewis,  speak  to  me  !  If  you  have  dreadful  news  to 
tell  me,  for  pity's  sake,  do  not  keep  me  in  suspense  !" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  that  will  be  new  to  you,"  he  said, 
without  relaxing  his  hard,  cold  manner,  "  and  not  a  great 
deal  that  ought  to  have  been  kept  back  from  me  when  I 
wished  to  marry  you,  believing  that  you  had  a  heart  to 
give  me  with  your  hand." 

As  if  struck  in  the  face,  Sarah  sank  back  into  a  chair, 
speechless  and  trembling. 

"  Yes  !  had  you  been  sincere  with  me  then,  grieved  and 
disappointed  as  I  would  have  felt,  I  would  have  respected 
you  the  more,  and  loved  you  none  the  less  for  the  dis- 
closure. But  when,  after  a  year  and  a  half  of  married  life, 
I  learn  that  the  woman  I  have  loved  and  trusted  with  my 
whole  soul  —  from  whom  I  have  never  concealed  a  thought 
that  it  could  interest  her  to  know  —  has  all  the  while  been 
playing  a  false  part  —  vowing  at  the  altar  to  love  me  and 
me  alone,  when  she  secretly  idolized  another  ;  bearing  my 
name,  living  beneath  my  roof,  sleeping  in  my  bosom  —  yet 
thinking  of,  and  caring  for  him,  treasuring  his  keepsakes  as 
the  most  precious  of  her  possessions  —  is  it  strange  that, 
when  the  tongue  of  a  vulgar  gossip  proclaims  my  shame  in 
my  hearing,  and  other  evidence  proves  what  I  thought  was 
his  vile  slander  to  be  true  as  gospel  —  is  it  strange,  I  say, 
that  I  am  incensed  at  the  deception  practised  upon  me  —  at 
the  infamous  outrage  of  my  dearest  hopes  —  my  most  holy 
feelings  ?" 

She  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  clasped  his  knees,  and  im- 
plored him,  chokingly,  to  "forgive"  her.  "Oh!  if  you 
knew  what  I  have  suifered  !" 

"What  you  have  suffered!"    He  folded  his  arms   and 

looked  sorrowfully  down  at  her  crouching  figure.     "  Yes  ! 

you  were  not  by  nature  coarse  and  unfeeling  !     The  violence 

you  have  committed  upon  your  heart  and  every  principle  of 

9* 


202  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

delicacy  and  truth  must  have  cost  you  pain.  Then  you 
loved  hiia !" 

"  Once !  a  long  while  ago !"  said  Sarah,  hiding  her  face 
in  her  hands. 

"Take  caio!"  There  was  no  softness  now  in  his  tone. 
"  Remember  that  T  have  seen  you  together  day  by  day,  and 
that  glances  and  actions,  unnoticed  at  the  time  in  my  stupid 
blindness,  recur  to  me  HOW  with  terrible  meaning.  For 
once,  speak  the  true  voice  of  feeling,  and  own  what  I  know 
already,  that  all  the  love  you  ever  had  to  give  belongs  still 
to  your  sister's  husband !" 

"I  will  speak  the  truth!"  Sarah  arose  and  stood  before 
him — face  livid  and  eyes  burning.  "  I  did  love  this  man ! 
I  married  you,  partly  to  please  my  parents,  partly  because 
I  found  out  that  by  some  means  my  secret  had  fallen  into 
unscrupulous  hands,  and  I  was  mad  with  dread  of  its  ex- 
posure !  It  seemed  to  me  that  no  worse  shame  could  come 
upon  me  than  to  have  it  trumpeted  abroad  that  I  had 
bestowed  my  love  unsought,  and  was  ready  to  die  because 
it  was  slighted.  I  have  learned  since  that  it  is  far,  far  worse 
to  live  a  lie — to  despise  myself!  Oh!  that  I  had  died 
then!"  She  battled  with  the  emotion  that  threatened  to 
overwhelm  her,  and  went  on.  "  Once  bound  to  you,  it  has 
been  my  hourly  endeavor  to  feel  and  act  as  became  the 
faithful  wife  of  a  kind,  noble  man.  If,  sometimes,  I  have 
erred  in  thought — if  my  feelings  have  failed  me  in  the  mo- 
ment of  trial — yet,  in  word  and  deed,  in  look  and  gesture,  I 
have  been  true  to  you.  No  one  have  I  deceived  more 
thoroughly  than  Philip  Benson.  He  never  suspected  my 
unfortunate  partiality  for  himself;  he  believes  me  still,  what 
I  would  give  worlds  to  become  in  truth,  your  loyal,  loving 
wife !  It  is  well  that  you  know  the  truth  at  last.  I  do  not 
ask  you  how  you  have  obtained  the  outlines  of  a  disgrace- 
ful story,  that  I  have  tried  a  thousand  times  to  tell  you,  but 


HTJ  8X8.  203 

was  prevented  by  the  fear  of  losing  your  favor  forever 
This  is  my  poor  defence — not  against  your  charges,  but  in 
palliation  of  the  sin  of  which  they  justly  accuse  me.  I  can 
say  nothing  more.  Do  with  me  as  you  will !" 
'  "It  is  but  jusi  to  myself  that  you  should  hear  the  cir- 
cumstances which  accidentally  revealed  this  matter  to  me." , 

He  narrated  the  scene  at  the  restaurant,  and  the  discovery 
of  the  evening.  He  evinced  neither  relenting  nor  sympathy 
in  the  recital.  Her  confession  had  extinguished  the  last  ray 
of  hope,  cherished,  though  unacknowledged  by  himself, 
that  she  might  extenuate  her  error  or  give  a  more  favorable 
construction  to  the  evidence  against  her.  It  was  not  singu- 
lar that,  in  the  reaction  of  disappointment,  he  was  ready  to 
believe  that  he  had  not  heard  all ;  to  imagine  that  he  could 
perceive  throughout  her  statement  a  disposition  to  screen 
Philip,  that  was,  in  itself,  a  proof  of  disingenuousness,  if 
not  deliberate  falsehood.  She  denied  that  he  had  ever  been 
aware  of  her  attachment  or  had  reciprocated  it.  What 
meant  then  those  words — "  hopes  in  time  to  have  a  nearer 
claim  ?"  what  those  impassioned  verses  ?  what  the  linking 
of  their  initials  within  the  shell  ?  the  motto  on  the  "wooden 
tablet?  "While  these  subtle  queries  were  insinuated  into 
his  soul  by  some  mocking  spirit,  he  concluded  the  history 
of  the  discovery  of  the  casket. 

"  I  have  never  opened  it  since  the  night  before  I  was 
married,"  said  Sarah,  with  no  haste  of  self-justification. 
"  I  put  it  into  the  drawer  the  day  after  we  went  to  ou 
house.  It  has  not  been  unlocked  from  that  day  to  this." 

"  Why  keep  it  at  all,  unless  as  a  memento  of  one  still  dear 
to  you  ?" 

"  I  felt  as  if  I  had  buried  it.  I  said  to  myself:  '  If  the 
time  ever  comes  when  I  can  disinter  these  relics  and  show 
them  to  my  husband,  without  a  pang  or  fear,  as  mementoes 
of  a  dead  and  almost  forgotten  folly,  he  shall  destroy  them, 


20i  THE     EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

and  I  shall  have  gained  a  victory  that  will  insure  my  life- 
long happiness.'  " 

"And  that  time  has  never  arrived." 

She  would  have  spoken,  but  her  tongue  proved  traitorous, 
Sho  crimsoned  and  was  silent. 

Lewis  smiled  drearily.  "  You  see  that  I  know  you  bet- 
ter than  you  do  yourself.  It  is  well,  as  you  have  said,  that 
I  know  all  ai  last.  I  pity  you  !  If  I  could,  I  would  release 
you  from  your  bondage.  As  it  is,  I  will  do  all  that  I  can 
for  this  end." 

"  Never  !"  cried  Sarah,  shuddering.  "  Have  you  forgot- 
ten our  child  ?" 

"  I  have  not !"  His  voice  shook  for  a  second.  "  She  is 
all  that  unites  us  now.  For  the  sake  of  her  future — her 
good  name — an  open  separation  ought  to  be  avoided,  if 
possible, — if  it  be  inevitable,  your  conduct  must  not  be  the 
ostensible  cause.  To  quiet  malicious  tongues,  you  must 
remain  here  awhile  longer  under  your  mother's  care.  To 
accomplish  the  same  end,  I  must  appear  once  more  in  public, 
and  on  apparently  friendly  terms  with — your  brother-in-law. 
When  your  mother  returns  to  the  city,  you  had  best  go, 
too,  and  to  your  own  house.  Your  brother  Robert  is  now 
sixteen  years  old — steady  and  manly  enough  to  act  as  your 
protector.  Invite  him  to  stay  with  you,  and  also  Jeannie, 
if  you  find  it  lonely." 

"  What  are  you  saying  ?  Where  will  you  be  that  you 
speak  of  my  choosing  another  protector?" 

"  A  very  incompetent  one  I  have  proved  myself  to  be !" 
he  returned,  with  the  same  sad  smile.  "  I  have  not  been 
able  to  shield  you  from  invidious  reports ;  still  less  to 
save  you  from  yourself.  I  sail  for  Europe  day  after  to- 
morrow." 

"  Lewis,  you  will  not !  If  you  ever  loved  me,  do  not 
desert  me  and  our  child  now !  I  will  submit  to  any  punish- 


HUSKS.  205 

ment  but  this !"  She  clung  anew  to  his  kneei  as  she 
poured  out  her  prayer. 

Not  a  month  ago  she  had  turned  pale  with  fright  at 
the  suggestion  of  this  voyage.  It  was  sheer  acting  then  ! 
why  not  now  ? 

;'  Objections  are  useless !"  he  said.  "  My  arrangements 
are  made.  I  have  passed  my  word." 

"  But  you  will  not  leave  me  in  anger !  Say  that  you  will 
forgive  me !  that  you  will  return  soon,  and  this  miserable 
night  be  forgotten !" 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  when  I  will  return  ?"  He  raised  her 
head,  and  looked  straight  into  her  eyes.  "  When  you  write 
to  me,  and  tell  me  that  you  have  destroyed  the  love-tokens 
in  that  box  ;  when  you  bid  me  come  back  for  your  sake — • 
not  for  our  child's !  Until  then,  I  shall  believe  that  my 
presence  would  be  irksome  to  you.  It  is  necessary  for  our 
house  to  have  a  resident  partner  in  England.  It  is  my  ex- 
pectation to  fill  that  place  for  some  time  to  come ;  it  shall 
be  for  you  to  say  how  long." 

Bowed  as  Sarah's  spirit  was  beneath  the  burst  of  the 
long  dreaded  storm  and  her  accusing  conscience,  her 
womanly  pride  revolted  at  this  speech.  She  had  bumbled 
herself  in  the  dust  at  the  feet  of  a  man  whom  she  did  not 
love ;  had  borae  meekly  his  reproaches  ;  submitted  dumbly 
to  the  degrading  suspicions  that  far  transcended  her  actual 
sin :  but  as  the  idea  of  her  suing  servilely  for  the  love  she 
had  never  yet  valued  ;  of  him,  indifferent  and  independent, 
awaiting  afar  off  for  her  petition — hers,  whom  he  had 
abandoned  to  the  scornful  sneers  of  the  keen-witted  hyenas 
of  society ;  to  the  cross-examination  of  her  distrustful  rela. 
lives  ;  the  stings  of  remorse;  left  in  one  word  to  herself! — • 
as  this  picture  grew  up  clearly  before  her  mind,  the  tide  of 
feeling  turned. 

"  You  reject  my  prayers  and  despise  my  tears !"  she  said, 


206  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

proudly.  "  You  refuse  to  accept  of  my  humiliation.  Yet  you 
do  not  doubt  me,  as  you  would  have  me  believe  that  you 
do !  Else  you  would  not  dare  to  trust  me — the  keeper  of 
your  honor  and  your  child's  fair  name — out  of  your  sight ! 
I  throw  back  the  charge  in  your  teeth,  and  tell  you  that 
your  conduct  gives  it  the  lie !  I  have  asked  you — shame 
on  me  that  I  did ! — to  continue  to  me  the  shelter  of  your 
name  and  presence ;  to  shield  me,  a  helpless  woman,  more 
unhappy  than  guilty,  from  the  ban  of  the  world  ;  and  you 
deny  me  every  thing  but  a  contemptible  shadow  of  re- 
spectability, which  the  veriest  fool  can  penetrate.  I  would 
not  have  you  suppose  that  your  generous  confidence  in  my 
integrity" — she  brought  out  the  words  with  scathing  con- 
tempt— "  will  deter  me  from  sinking  to  the  level  you  are 
pleased  to  assign  me.  If  the  native  dignity  of  my  woman- 
hood, the  principles  I  inherit  from  my  father,  my  love  for 
my  innocent  babe  do  not  hold  me  back  from  ruin,  be-  as- 
sured that  the  hope  of  winning  your  approval  will  not.  To 
you  I  make  no  pledges  of  reformation ;  I  offer  but  one 
promise.  If  you  choose  to  remain  abroad  until  I,  in  spirit, 
kiss  your  feet,  and  pray  you  to  receive  a  love  such  as  most 
men  are  glad  to  win  by  assiduity  of  attention,  and  every 
pleasing  art — which  you  would  force  into  being  by  wilful 
and  revengeful  absence — you  will  never  see  your  native 
land  again  until  the  grass  grows  upon  my  grave !" 

She  paused  for  breath,  and  continued  more  slowly. 
"  While  your  child  lives,  and  I  remain  her  guardian,  I  will 
use  your  means  for  her  maintenance — will  reside  in  your 
house-  If  she  dies,  or  you  take  her  from  me,  I  will  not 
owe  you  my  support  for  a  single  day  more!" 

Lewis  grew  pallid  to  his  lips ;  but  he,  too,  was  proud, 
and  his  stubborn  will  was  called  into  bold  exercise. 

"  Very  well !  It  is  in  your  choice  to  accede  to  my  propo- 
sitions, or  not.  A  share  in  all  that  I  have  is  yours ;  not 


H  TJ  8  K  8  .  207 

only  daring  th-'  child's  life,  but  as  long  as  yon  live.  Before 
I  leave  Amen  i,  I  shall  deposit  for  you  in  your  father's 
bank  a  sum  wb-ch,  I  hope,  yon  will  find  sufficient  to  main- 
tain you  in  comfort.  Your  father  will  be  my  executor  in 
this  matter.  I  shall  not  confide" to  him  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  my  departure,  leaving  you  at  liberty  to  act  in 
this  respect,  as  in  every  thing  else,  according  to  the  dictates 
of  your  will  and  pleasure.  At  the  end  of  a  certain  term  of 
years  specified  by  law,  you  can,  if  you  wish,  procure  a 
divorce,  on  the  ground  of  my  wilful  and  continued  desertion 
of  you ;  in  which  case,  the  provision  for  your  support  will 
remain  unchanged.  As  to  the  child — the  mother's  is  the 
strongest  claim.  I  shall  never  take  her  from  you.  Do  not 
let  me  keep  you  up  longer.  It  is  late !" 

With  a  silent  inclination  of  the  head,  she  withdrew,  and 
he  cast  himself  upon  the  sofa,  there  to  lie  during  the  few 
hours  of  the  night  that  were  yet  unspent. 

He  had  arisen,  and  was  standing  at  the  window  when 
Sarah  entered  in  the  morning.  But  for  the  dark  shadows 
under  the  eyes,  and  the  tight-drawn  look  about  the  mouth, 
she  appeared  as  usual ;  and  her  "  Good-morning,"  if  cold, 
was  yet  polite. 

"  I  imagine,"  she  said,  as  the  gong  clashed  out  its  second 
call,  "that  you  wish  me  to  accompany  you  to  breakfast, 
and  to  preserve  my  ordinary  manner  towards  you  when 
others  are  by.  Am  I  right  ?" 

"  You  are.  This  is  all  I  ask.  The  effort  will  not  be  a 
tedious  one.  I  leave  here  at  noon." 

Arm  in  arm  they  directed  their  steps  towards  the  great 
diniug-hall — to  the  view  of  the  spectator  as  comfortable 
and  happy  a  pair  as  any  that  pursued  that  route  on  that 
summer  morning.  Together  they  sat  down  "at  table,  and 
Mr.  Hammond  ordered  "  his  lady's"  breakfast  with  his 
own.  Mrs.  Hunt  bustled  in  shortly  after  they  were  seated, 


208  THE    EMPTY     HEART;     OR, 

full  of  wonderment  at  having  heard  from  Sarah's  maid  of 
her  master's  unexpected  arrival;  while  Jeannie  gave  his 
hand  a  squeeze  as  hearty  as  was  the  welcome  in  her  smiling 
face.  The  Bensons  were  always  late.  So  much  the  better. 
There  were  more  people  present  to  observe  the  cordial 
meeting  between  the  brothers-in-law,  made  the  more  con- 
spicuous by  Philip's  surprise.  The  genuineness  of  his  good 
spirits,  his  easy,  unembarrassed  manner,  was  the  best  veil 
that  could  have  been  devised  for  Sarah's  constraint  and 
Lewis's  counterfeit  composure. 

It  did  not  escape  Philip's  eye  that  Sarah  ate  nothing,  and 
spoke  only  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  singularity ;  and  he 
believed  that  he  had  discovered  the  origin  of  her  trouble 
when  Lewis  communicated  his  purpose  of  foreign  travel. 
When  the  burst  of  surprise  subsided,  the  latter  tried  suc- 
cessfully to  represent  his  plan  as  a  business  necessity. 
Lucy,  who  never  saw  an  inch  beyond  her  nose — morally  and 
mentally  speaking — except  when  her  intuitions  were 
quickened  by  self-love,  was  the  questioner  most  to  be 
dreaded. 

"Why  don't  you  go  with  him?"  she  inquired  of  her 
sister.  "  He  should  not  stir  one  step  without  me,  if  I  were 
in  your  place.  Only  think !  you  might  spend  six  months 
in  Paris !" 

"  How  would  Baby  Belle  relish  a  sea  voyage  !"  returned 
Sarah. 

"  Nonsense !  How  supremely  silly !  One  would  suppose 
that  she  was  the  only  member  of  the  family  whose  comfort 
was  to  be  consulted.  Rather  than  expose  her  to  the  possi- 
bility of  inconvenience,  you  will  deprive  yourself  of  profit 
and  pleasure,  and  be  separated  from  your  husband  for  nobody 
knows  how  iong.  This  shows  how  much  these  model  mar- 
ried people  really  care  for  one  another.  When  put  to  the 
test  they  are  no  better  than  we  poor  sinners,  whom  every- 


HUSKS.  209 

body  calls  flirts.  Phil,  are  those  muffins  warm  ?  This  one 
of  mine  has  grown  cold  while  I  was  talking." 

"  How  are  the  horses,  Benson  ?"  inquired  Lewis.  "  Have 
they  been  exercised  regularly  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  are  in  capital  order.  You  could  have  left  ua 
no  more  acceptable  reminder  of  yourself  than  those  same 
fine  bays." 

"If  you  have  no  other  engagement,  suppose  we  have 
them  up  before  the  light  carriage  after  breakfast,  and  take 
a  short  drive." 

"  Agreed,  with  all  my  heart !  unless  Mrs.  Hammond 
quarrels  with  me  for  robbing  her  of  a  portion  of  your  last 
morning  with  her." 

"  She  will  forgive  you !"  Lewis  rejoined,  to  spare  her  the 
effort  of  reply. 

From  her  window  Sarah  saw  them  whirl  off  along  the 
beach  in  sight  of  the  hundreds  of  spectators  on  the  sands 
and  about  the  hotels,  and  recognized  the  ingenuity  of  this 
scheme  for  proclaiming  the  amicable  feeling  between  the 
two. 

"  But  one  more  scene,  and  the  hateful  mockery  is  over !" 
thought  the  wife,  as  she  heard  her  husband's  step  outsMe 
the  door  on  his  return. 

She  snatched  a  paper  from  the  table,  and  seemed  absorbed 
in  its  contents,  not  looking  up  at  his  entrance.  Lewis  made 
several  turns  through  the  room,  sighed  heavily,  and  onoa 
paused,  as  if  about  to  address  her,  but  changed  his  mind, 

Then  sounded  from  without  the  fresh,  gurgling  laugh  of 
a  child,  and  the  nurse  came  in  with  the  baby — rosy  and 
bright — from  her  morning  walk  on  the  shore.  She  almost 
sprang  from  Mary's  hold  at  sight  of  her  father,  j^nd  dis- 
missing the  woman  with  a  word,  he  took  his  dar'iug  into 
his  arms,  and  sat  down  behind  his  wife.  InflexiK  f  stolen, 
Sarah  tried  not  to  listen,  as  she  would  not  see  tl  m  j  but 


210  THE    EMPTY     II  E  A  K  T  ;     OR, 

she  heard  every  sound :  the  child's  soft  coo  of  satisfaction 
as  she  nestled  in  the  father's  bosom  ;  the  many  kisses  he  im- 
printed upon  her  pure  face  and  mouth  with  what  agony  Sarah 
well  knew — the  irregular  respiration,  sometimes  repressed, 
until  its  breaking  forth  was  like  sobs ;  and  the  proud, 
miserable  heart  confessed  reluctantly  that,  in  one  respect, 
his  share  of  their  divided  lot  was  heavier  than  hers.  She 
was  not  to  witness  his  final  resignation  of  his  idol.  Under 
color  of  summoning  Mary,  he  carried  the  infant  from  the 
room,  and  came  back  without  her. 

"It  is  time  for  me  to  go  now,  Sarah  !" 

His  voice  was  calm,  and  its  firmness  destroyed  what 
slender  encouragement  she  might  have  drawn  from  the 
scene  with  his  child,  to  hope  for  some  modification  of  his 
resolution. 

"  Will  jon  write  to  me,  at  regular  intervals,  to  give  me 
news  of  Belle  ?" 

"  Certainly,  if  such  is  your  wish." 

"  And  yourself?  you  will  be  careful  of  your  health,  will 
you  not  ?  And,  if  I  can  ever  serve  you  in  any  way,  you 
will -let  me  know?" 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  you  can ;  thank  you." 

There  was  a  silence  of  some  moments.  Sarah  stood 
playing  with  the  tassel  of  her  morning  robe,  pale  and  com- 
posed. 

"Sarah!"  Lewis  took  her  hand.  "We  have  both  been 
hasty,  both  violent !  Unfeeling  as  yo-u  think  me,  and  as  I 
may  have  seemed  in  this  affair,  believe  me  that  it  almost 
kills  me  to  part  from  you  so  coldly.  It  is  not  like  me  to 
retract  a  determination,  but  if  you  will  say  now  what  you 
did  last  night — '  Do  not  go !'  I  will  stay,  and  be  as  good  a 
husband  to  you  as  I  can.  Shall  we  not  forgive,  and  try  to 
forget  ?" 

The  demon  of  resentful  pride  was  not  so  easily  exorcised. 


HU  S  X  S.  211 

At  a  breath  of  repentance — a  siggestion  of  compromise, 
the  fell  legion  rallied  an  impregnable  phalanx.  She  was 
frozen,  relentless  ;  her  eyes,  black  and  haughty,  met  his 
with  an  answer  her  tongue  could  not  have  framed  in  words. 
"  I  have  nothing  to  say !" 

"  '  Nothing !'      The   ocean  must  then   separate  us  for 
years — it  may  be  forever !" 

"  It  was  your  choice.     I  will  not  reverse  it." 
"  Not,  if  you  knew  that  if  you  let  me  go  I  would  never 
return  ?" 

"Not  if  I  knew  that  you  would  never  return !" 
Without  another  word,  without  a  farewell  look,  or  the 
hand-grasp  mere  strangers  exchange,  he  left  her  there — the 
stony  monument  of  her   ill-directed    life    and-  affections; 
the  victim  of  a  worldly  mother  and  a  backbiting  tongue ! 


THE    EMPTY     HEART:     OB. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

u  How  gay  Mrs.  Hammond  has  grown  lately  !"  said  Mrs, 
Grey  ling,  the  fashionable  critic  of  the House  drawing- 
room.  "  Do  you  see  that  she  is  actually  waltzing  to-night  ? 
She  moves  well,  too  !  That  pearl-colored  moire  antique  is 
handsome,  and  must  have  cost  every  cent  of  nine  dollars  a 
yard.  She  is  partial  to  heavy  silks,  it  seems.  It  gives  an 
air  of  sameness  to  her  dress  ;  otherwise  she  shows  very  tol- 
erable taste." 

"  I  have  heard  it  said  that  she  was  a  regular  dowdy  before 
she  was  married,"  observed  Mrs.  Parton,  who  was  also  on 
the  "  committee  of  censure" — a  self-appointed  organization, 
which  found  ample  employment  in  this  crowded  nest  of 
pleasure-seekers.  "  Her  husband  is  perpetually  making  he1* 
presents,  and  she  dresses  to  please  him." 

"  Humph  !  I  distrust  these  pattern  couples !  '  My  husband 
doesn't  approve  of  my  doing  this — won't  hear  of  my  acting 
so !'  are  phrases  easily  learned,  and  sound  so  fine  that  one 
soon  falls  into  the  habit  of  using  them.  What  a  flirt  Mrs. 
Benson  is!  That  is  the  fifth  young  man  she  has  danced 
with  this  evening.  I  pity  her  husband  and  baby !" 

"  He  does  not  look  inconsolable !  I  tell  you  what  my  no- 
tion is :  he  may  love  his  wife — of  course  he  does — but  he 
admires  her  sister  more.  See  how  he  watches  her !  Mrs. 
Tomes,  told  me  that  she  was  standing  near  him  the  first  time 
Mrs.  Hammond  waltzed,  and  that  he  seemed  real  worried, 
When  the  set  was  through,  she  came  to  look  for  a  seat,  and 


213 


he  got  one  for  her.  As  she  took  it,  he  said  something  to 
her  which  Mrs.  Tomes  could  not  hear,  but  she  laughed  out 
in  his  face  as  saucy  as  could  be,  and  said  :  '  Oh,  I  am  learning 
when  I  am  in  Rome  to  do  as  Romans  do  !  Doesn't  my  elder 
sister  set  me  the  example  ?*  " 

"  He  could  say  nothing  then,"  said  Mrs.  Greyling.  "  Those 
girls  played  their  cards  well.  The  Hunts  have  very  little, 
if  any  thing,  besides  the  father's  salary,  and  the  family  waa 
very  obscure." 

Mrs.  Greyling's  paternal  progenitor  was  an  opulent  soap- 
boiler, who  was  not  ashamed,  during  her  childhood,  to  drive 
an  unsavory  cart  from  one  kitchen  door  to  another.  But  he 
counted  his  thousands  now  by  the  hundred,  and  his  children 
ranked,  as  a  consequence,  among  the  "  upper  ten." 

She  continued  her  charitable  remarks :  "  Somehow  the  old 
lady  contrived  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  wealth,  and 
married  both  daughters  off  before  their  second  season.  Mr. 
Benson  is  reputed  to  be  rich  ;  but  for  that  matter  these 
Southern  planters  are  all  said  to  be  rolling  in  gold.  Mr. 
Hammond  is  certainly  making  money.  Mr.  Greyling  saya 
he  is  a  splendid  business  man." 

"  He  sailed  for  Europe  a  week  ago,  you  know." 

"  Yes ;  and  since  then  madame  has  been  the  belle  of  the 
ball.  The  old  story — '  When  the  cat  is  away,  the  mice  will 
play.' " 

"  Sarah,"  said  Philip,  an  hour  later,  "  will  you  walk  on 
the  balcony  with  me  ?  You  are  heated,  and  the  air  is  balmy 
as  Georgian  breezes.  It  will  do  you  good." 

"Are  you  going  to  scold  me?"  she  asked,  archly,  before, 
she  would  take  his  arm.  • 

"  No.  I  have  no  right  to  do  it  if  I  had  the  disposi* 
tion." 

There  was  no  moon ;  but  the  sky  was  strewed  thickly 
with  stars,  and  the  white  foam  of  the  surf  caught  and  held 


214  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

tremulously  the  sparkles  from  the  bright  watchers  aVove. 
Philip  did  not  appear  disposed  to  converse,  and  Sarah 
waited  for  him  to  begin.  Meanwhile,  they  strolled  on  and 
on,  until  the  murmur  of  the  ocean  was  louder  than  the 
music  of  the  saloon  band.  The  sea  moaned  to  the  stars,  as 
it  had  done  to  the  sunless  July  heavens  on  that  day  so 
memorable  in  the  history  of  one  of  the  pair — the  day  of 
shipwreck  stories  and  a  real  shipwreck — none  the  less 
disastrous,  that  the  treasures  and  their  loss  were  hidden 
from  all  but  the  bereaved  one. 

To  many  it  is  appointed  to  lead  two  lives :  to  think  and 
feel  as  well  as  to  act  a  double  part ;  to  separate,  as  inexorably 
as  human  will  can  decree,  past  hopes  and  joys — past  sorrows, 
and,  if  practicable,  past  memories  from  the  thoughts  and 
emotions  of  the  to-day  in  which  they  exist.  Thousands 
keep  up  the  barrier  until  death  ends  the  need  of  watchfulness 
and  labor ;  the  coffin-lid  covers  the  faithful  mask  that  has 
smiled  so  patiently  and  so  long  above  an  aching  heart. 
Yet  dammed  up  passion  is  a  dangerous  thing.  If  hearts 
were  so  constituted  that  they  could  be  drained  like  pestilen- 
tial marshes,  the  flood  conducted  off  in  harmless  and  straight 
channels,  then,  indeed,  might  hypocrisy  rejoice,  and  sleek 
decorum  sit  down  at  ease.  As  it  is,  genteel  propriety  and 
refined  reticence  are  perpetuity  endangered  by  the  unfore- 
seen swell  of  some  intermittent  spring,  or  the  thawing  of 
some  ice-bound  stream,  that  is  liable  to  overleap  or  tear 
away  the  dike — ingulfing  in  an  instant  the  elaborate  struc- 
tures years  of  toil  have  cheaply  purchased. 

Such  was  the  moment  when,  withdrawing  her  hand  from 
Philip's  arm,  Sarah  struck  suddenly — fiercely — upon  her 
breast,  and  cried  :  "  Oh  !  why  cannot  I  die  and  end  this  mis- 
ery!" 

"  Sarah !" 

"  I  say  I  can  bear  it  no  longer !     Others  do  not  suffer  thus  I 


215 


If  they  do,  they  die,  or  lose  their  reason.  I  will  not  enduro 
it,  I  tell  you  !" 

«  Sister !" 

"  Do  not  call  me  by  that  name,  Philip  Benson !  You 
know  better  !" 

She  leaned  forward  on  the  balcony  railing,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  sea.  Her  deep,  hurried  breathing  was  like  the  pant 
of  some  worried  animal,  gathering  strength,  and,  with  it, 
courage  for  renewed  conflict.  To  her  last  words  the  mys- 
terious plaint  of  the  sea  lent  meaning.  Philip,  too,  remem- 
bered that  barren  shore,  the  tumbling  breakers,  the  solitary 
sea-bird's  labored  flight  landward.  Was  this  his  work  ?  It 
was  but  a  flicker  of  truth — dashed  out  the  next  second  by  a 
blow  of  indignant  will. 

"  You  may  forbid  me  to  address  you  by  this  title,  Sarah  ; 
but  you  cannot  hinder  me  from  sympathizing  in  your  sorrow, 
and  trying  to  befriend  you.  If  my  companionship  is  unwel- 
come, allow  me  to  conduct  you  to  your  room.  I  cannot 
leave  you  alone  here,  where  there  is  continual  passing." 

"  You  are  right.  Regard  for  appearances  is  the  one  thing 
needful,"  she  said,  mockingly.  "  I  must  be  a  dull  scholar, 
if  I  have  not  learned  that.  I  am  sane  again  now — fit  to  as- 
sociate with  other  sane  people.  If  you  please,  we  will  go  to 
the  ball-room  instead  of  up-stairs.  I  am  not  a  candidate  for 
Bolitary  confinement  yet !" 

"  Mrs.  Hammond,  I  heard  a  gentleman  inquiring  anxious- 
ly for  you  just  now  !"  called  out  a  lady,  in  passing.  "He 
said  that  you  promised  to  dance  with  him." 

"  I  did.  Thank  you  for  reminding  me.  A  little  faster, 
my  good  brother !" 

She  hurried  him  into  the  saloon,  where  they  were  met 
immediately  by  her  would-be  partner.  Philip,  bewildered 
and  uneasy,  watched  her  motions  through  the  evolutions  of 
the  lance.  She  talked  rapidly  and  animatedly,  keeping  hor 


216  THE  EMPTY  HEART;    OR, 

cavalier  in  a  broad  smile,  and  confirming  her  lately  won 
reputation  of  a  wit.  Her  eyes  shone ;  her  color  was  high  ;  she 
was  "  really  handsome" — as  the  "  censure  committee"  had 
occasion  to  remember  at  a  later  day,  when  it  was  spoken  of 
in  a  very  different  tone  from  that  employed  by  a  member  of 
the  distinguished  sisterhood  in  addressing  Mrs.  Hunt  on  this 
night. 

"  You  are  a  fortunate  mother,  my  dear  madam,  to  have 
two  such  brilliant  daughters.  They  eclipse  the  girls  en- 
tirely." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of  in  my  children,  ma'am. 
I  done — I  did  my  best  by  them,  and  they  have  repaid  me  a 
thousandfold." 

"  Now,  I  am  ready  !"  said  Sarah  to  her  brother-in-law. 
"  I  release  you,  Mr.  Burley  !"  waving  her  hand  to  her  late 
attendant  as  a  princess  might  to  a  courtier. 

Vexed  and  disturbed  by  her  unsettled  manner  and  queer 
freaks,  Philip  gave  her  his  arm,  and  conducted  her  through 
the  throng. 

"  Lewis  has  had  fair  winds,  and  must  now  be  nearing  the 
end  of  his  voyage,"  he  remarked,  as  they  sauntered  along 
the  piazza. 

"  Ah  !  he  is  on  the  sea  to-night !  How  strange  !  I  had 
not  thought  of  that !" 

"  I  see  nothing  wonderful  in  the  idea,  as  he  has  not  had 
time  to  cross  the  Atlantic  since  he  left  these  shores,"  return- 
ed Philip,  dryly.  "  The  oddest  thing  I  can  think  of  at  pres- 
ent is  yourself,  Sarah !" 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  Philip.  Do  not  speak  harshly  to 
me !  You  may  be  sorry  for  it  some  day." 

They  were  at  her  door.  Her  softened  manner  moved  him, 
and  as  she  offered  her  hand,  he  took  it  with  fraternal  warmth. 

"  Forgive  me,  if  I  was  rough !  I  have  not  understood 
you  this  evening." 


HUSKS.  217 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  you  ever  will.  Time  aras — but  it  is 
folly  to  allude  to  that  now  !  Think  of  me  as  kindly  as  you 
can — will  you  ?  You  have  wounded  me  sometimes,  but 
never  knowingly.  I  cannot  say  that  of  many  others  with 
whom  I  have  had  dealings.  Good-night." 

The  little  parlor  was  still.  Mrs.  Hammond  never  kept 
her  maid  up  to  assist  in  her  disrobing,  if  she  intended  re- 
maining out  until  a  late  hour.  Nurse  and  child  were  quiet 
in  the  adjacent  nursery.  Closing  the  door  of  communication, 
Sarah  stripped  her  hair  and  arras  of  their  ornaments ;  took 
off  her  diamond  pin,  then  her  rings,  and  laid  them  away  in 
her  jewelry  case ;  divested  herself  of  her  rich  dress,  and  drew 
from  her  wardrobe  a  plain,  dark  wrapper,  which  she  put  on. 
Next  she  sat  down  at  her  writing-desk,  selected  a  sheet  of 
paper,  and  wrote  a  single  line — when  a  thought  struck  her, 
and  she  stopped.  A  momentary  irresolution  ended  in^her 
tearing  off  a  strip  containing  Avhat  she  had  penned,  and 
holding  it  in  the  flame  of  the  Limp  until  it  was  consumed. 
"  Best  not !  best  not !"  she  muttered.  "  Doubt  may  bring 
comfort  to  the  one  or  two  who  will  need  it.  Let  them 
doubt !  Save  appearances  if  you  can,  my  poor  mother 
would  say."  A  smile  of  unutterable  scorn  glimmered  over 
her  face.  She  pushed  away  the  desk  and  walked  to  the 
window. 

From  the  distant  ball-room  the  throbbing  waves  of  music 
still  rolled  past  on  the  summer  air,  and  blent  with  them 
was  the  solemn  undertone'of  the  surf.  Did  men  call  its 
mighty  voice  a  monotone  ?  To  her  it  was  eloquent  of  many 
and  awful  things — not  frightful.  What  was  there  of  terror 
in  thoughts  of  rest,  endless  sleep,  rocked  for  ages  by  the 
rising  and  falling  tide,  hushed  into  dreamless  repose  by  the 
music  of  the  billows  ?  No  more  of  a  vain  and  wearisome 
life ;  no  more  baffled  aspirations  and  crushed  affections ;  no 
more  disheartening  attempts  to  find  and  reach  the  right — 
10 


218  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

to  follow  in  the  steep,  rugged  path  of  duty,  and  shun  the 
easy,  alluring  way  to  which  heart  and  memory  were  ever 
pointing ;  no  more  of  stern  rebuke  and  sneering  taunt ;  no 
more  galled  pride  and  outraged  womanhood ;  no  more 
lying  gayety,  smiles,  and  repartee,  when  the  spirit  was 
writhing  in  impotent  agony,  longing  to  shriek  out  its  inten- 
sify of  woe!  Only  sleep,  rest,  peace! 

"  Sleep !  rest !  peace !"  She  gasped  the  words  feverishly, 
as  they  seemed  to  come  to  her  on  the  breeze.  Might  she 
not  seek  these  now!  now!  Not  yet!  The  grounds,  the 
beach  were  still  populous  with  groups  of  strollers.  She 
would  be  seen — perhaps  recognized — probably  frustrated 
in  her  purpose.  Leaning  her  head  against  the  casement, 
she  sat  there  an  hour — not  debating,  still  less  wavering  in 
her  resolve,  only  waiting  until  flight  would  be  safe — and 
thinking!  thinking!  thinking!  until  her  brain  whirled. 

A  thwarted,  warped,  disjointed  existence  had  hers  been- 
.from  its  beginning.  Denied  food  suitable  for  her  mental 
and  spiritual  need ;  denied  sympathy,  air,  and  expression  of 
suffering ;  under  the  slow  torture  of  this  starvation,  every 
avenue  to  goodness  and  liberty  hedged  up,  and,  for  the 
future,  temptation,  repudiation,  loneliness,  perhaps  a  sullied 
name — who  could  dispute  her  right  to  try  release  by  one 
brief  pang  she  alone  could  feel  ?  Who  would  miss  her  ? 
Not  the  world  that  flattered  her  wealth  and  wit,  her  laces, 
silks,  and  diamonds ;  not  the  mother  and  sister  who  wor- 
shipped the  gilded  Juggernaut  "  Society ;"  not  he  who  was 
that  night  sleeping  soundly  on  the  same  sea  that  would  em- 
bosom her  in  her  sweeter,  deeper  slumber.  Shocked  he 
might  be  at  an  event  so  unexpected  and  uncommon.  His 
next  sensation  would  be  a  relief  at  his  deliverance  from  a 
burden,  at  his  freedom  to  come  and  go  as  he  liked — no 
longer  banished  by  her  obstinacy  and  his  own.  He  had 
loved  her  as  most  other  men  do  their  wives — a  bond 


HUSKS.  219 

too  weak  to  bear  a  heavy  blow  at  their  self-love.  She  had 
sinned  beyond  forgiveness  in  his  eyes. 

Of  Philip  she  thought  with  a  mingling  of  tenderness  and 
resentment.  His  unthinking  gallantry  had  been  the  root 
of  her  sorest  trouble ;  but  it  was  unthinking,  not  wilful 
wrong.  Nor  was  she  the  only  sufferer.  His  heart  was 
well-niuh.  as  hungry  as  hers.  Within  the  past  week,  she  had 
seen  this  more  clearly  than  ever  before,  and  he  had  felt  it ! 
Lucy's  narrow  mind,  her  insipidity,  her  inordinate  vanity, 
her  selfish  idolatry  of  pleasures  that 'wearied  him ;  her  'dis- 
relish for  intellectual  and  domestic  enjoyments,  displayed  in 
its  most  objectionable  form,  in  her  indifference  to  his  com- 
pany, and  her  neglect  of  her  child — these  were  working  out 
their  legitimate  result  in  his  alienation  from  her,  and  attrac- 
tion towards  the  once  slighted  sister,  whose  large  heart  and 
mental  gifts  he  now  valued  at  their  true  worth.  To  repel 
him,  as  much  as  to  drown  her  cares,  Sarah  had  plunged 
into  the  vortex  she  had  heretofore  avoided.  She  had  heard 
that  there  was  temporary  solace  in  this  species  of  dissipa- 
tion. The  cup  was,  for  her,  sparkleless  and  bitter,  from 
surface  to  dregs. 

She  was  saving  him  with  herself  by  this  final  step !  He 
would  realize  this  truth,  in  the  throe  that  would  shake  his 
soul  when  he  found  that  she  was  gone;  perhaps,  even  in 
that  anguished  hour,  would  bless  her  for  having  showed  to 
him,  while  she  drove  him  back  from,  the  abyss  they  were 
together  approaching.  It  was  no  idle  vaunt  she  had  made 
to  Lewis,  that  the  principles  inherited  from  lifer  father  would 
save  her  from  overt  sin.  Thus,  thus  would  she  flee  the 
temptation,  when  the  heart  had  left  the  will  to  battle 
unaided. 

Her  father !  the  gray  old  man  who  was  toiling  through 
this  summer's  heat,  in  his  deserted  home,  as  he  had  through 
so  many  summers  gone!  he  who  had  never  given  her  au 


220  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

impatient  or  angry  word — whose  pride  and  joy  she  still 
was !  The  stroke  would  be  severe  upon  him.  Yet  he 
would  not  refuse  comfort.  There  were  still  left  to  him  hia 
boys — fine,  manly  fellows  ;  Jeannie  and  his  baby  grandchild 
— his  lost  daughter's  gift.  Tears  rushed  into  the  hot,  wild 
eyes  with  this  last  image,  but  she  would  not  let  them  flow. 

"Is  it  not  b'etter  that  I  should  leave  her  now,  when  tho 
parting  will  give  her  no  pain,  when  one  little  week  will 
blot  out  my  memory  entirely  from  her  mind,  than  to  wait 
until  she  can  recollect  and  miss  me  ?" 

The  music  had  ceased.  The  revellers  had  dropped  away 
faster  than  they  had  collected,  when  once  the  movement 
was  made  to  retire.  The  murmur  of  the  deep  was  the 
only  sound  abroad ;  the  stars  were  the  only  sentinels. 
Sarah  arose,  threw  a  shawl  over  her  head,  and  cautiously  un- 
locked the  door.  A  strong  rush  of  air  blew  it  from  her  hold, 
and  as  she  caught  it,  to  draw  it  after  her,  she  trod  upon 
gome  object  lying  on  the  floor.  Mechanically  she  stooped 
to  pick  it  up.  It  was  an  infant's  shoe,  a  dainty  little  gaiter, 
that  peeped,  during  the  day,  from  beneath  Baby  Belle's 
white  skirt.  To  Sarah's  touch  it  seemed  that  the  lining 
still  retained  the  warmth  of  the  child's  foot. 

Never,  oh,  never,  was  the  patter  of  those  baby  feet  to 
make  glad  music  for  the  mother's  ear !  Others  must  guide 
and  sustain  her  trial  steps ;  others  smooth  her  daily  path ; 
others  direct  the  inexpei'ience  of  the  girl  in  the  perilous 
passes  where  that  mother  had  fallen  and  perished ! 

"Oh,  may  I^jiot  bless  her  before  I  leave  her  forever?" 
she  cried  to  stern  Resolution.  And  Conscience  rejoined, 
with  meaning  severity :  "  Is  it  you  who  would  breathe  a 
blessing  above  her  purity  ?" 

"  Suffer  me,  then,  to  take  the  farewell  look  I  dared  not 
grant  myself  before !" 

And  while  Resolution  faltered  at  the  impassioned  appeal^ 


221 


she  opened  the  nursery  door  and  stole  to  the  side  of  the 
crib.  The  night-lamp  shed  a  feeble  halo  over  the  table 
whereoH  it  stood.  The  rest  of  the  .room  was  in  darkness. 
Mary's  light  bedstead  was  close  to  the  crib.  Was  hers 
that  hard,  short  breathing,  that  sent  a  start  and  chill 
through  the  hearer  ?  A  touch  to  the  lamp  threw  a  blaze 
of  light  over  nurse  and  child.  A  sharp  cry  rang  through 
the  chamber. 

"  Mary !  Mary !  get  up  !" 

The  girl  sprang  to  the  floor  before  she  comprehended  the 
meaning  of  the  alarm.  Mrs.  Hammond  had  sunk  into  a 
chair  beside  the  crib,  from  which  she  had  snatched  her 
infant.  Baby  Belle's  head  was  strained  back;  her  hands 
clenched ;  her  limbs  stiffened  in  a  deathlike  spasm.  The 
eyes  were  rolled  out  of  sight  under  the  lids ;  and  the  four 
little  teeth — her  "  most  precious  pearls,"  the  fond  mother 
had  culled  them — were  hard-locked  within  the  purple  lips. 

Terrified  as  she  was,  Mary  had  the  presence  of  mind-  to 
run  for  assistance.  Mrs.  Hunt  and  a  physician  were  soon 
on  the  spot,  and  every  appliance  of  the  healing  art  that 
promised  relief  to  the  sufferer  was  used,  but  with  partial 
effect.  Sarah  saw  nothing  but  the  child ;  heard  nothing 
but  the  doctor's  calm  orders. 

"  You  do  not  try  to  help  her !"  she  said,  impatiently,  as 
a  convulsion,  more  fearful  than  any  that  had  preceded  it, 
seized  the  delicate  frame. 

"  I  could  not  do  more,  were  it  my  own  child,  madam !" 

He  was  an  elderly  man,  whose  charity  for  fashionable 
mothers  was  very  scant,  and,  having  seen  Mrs.  Hammond 
in  the  ball-room  the  evening  before,  he  was  not  prepared 
for  the  solicitude  she  manifested. 

"  You  had  better  let  the  nurse  take  her  !"  he  said,  more 
gently,  as  Sarah,  with  difficulty,  held  down  the  struggling 
hands  that  might  do  hurt  to  the  head  and  face. 


222  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OK, 

"No!     I  will  have  no  one  touch  her  but  myself!" 

The  morning  broke,  the  day  heightened  into  noon,  and 
the  paroxysms  only  t  abated  in  violence  as  the  babe's 
strength  declined.  Steadfast  to  her  word,  the  mother  had 
not  once  resigned  her.  She  had  herself  immersed  her  in 
the  warm  baths,  applied  the  poultices,  and  administered  the 
medicines  prescribed.  Mrs.  Hunt  was  compassionate  and 
active ;  Mary  sorrowful,  and  prompt  with  whatever  service 
she  could  perform  ;  Lucy  frightened  and  idle. 

Philip,  who  had  often  been  in  the  outer  room  to  make 
inquiries  and  offer  aid,  if  any  were  required  of  him,  was 
told,  just  before  sunset,  that  he  could  go  into  the 
^chamber.  Mrs.  Hunt  invited  him,  and  the  information  she 
added  gave  to  his  countenance  a  look  of  heartfelt  sadness 
as  he  followed  her.  Sarah  sat  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
so  altered  that  he  could  scarcely  credit  the  fact  of  her  iden- 
tity with  the  being  he  had  parted  from  the  previous  night. 
Her  eyes  were  sunken,  her  features  sharpened,  and  her 
complexion  had  the  dead,  grayish  hue  of  an  old  woman's : 
In  her  arms  lay  the  babe,  and,  as  she  crouched  over  it,  her 
mien  of  defiant  protection  suggested  to  him  the  idea  of  a 
savage  animal  guarding  her  young.  He  could  not  say 
whether  or  not  she  was  aware  of  his  presence,  until  he  knelt 
by  the  dying  child  and  called  it  by  name. 

"  Baby  Belle,  do  you  know  Uncle  Philip  ?" 

The  dark  eyes,  soft  still  through  the  gathering  film, 
moved  slightly,  and  Sarah  said — 

"  Speak  to  her  again !" 

"Will  Baby  Belle  come  to  uncle?" 

This  time  there  was  no  sign  of  consciousness.  The  wee 
hands  clasped  in  the  mother's  grew  colder  and  colder,  and 
ihe  breath  fluttered  slowly  through  the  parted  lips.  The 
end  was  near,  and  Philip's  pitying  accent  expressed  his 
aense  of  this. 


223 


"  Give  her  to  me,  dear  Sarah  !  It  is  not  right  for  you  to 
keep  her  longer." 

"  She  is  mine  /" 

The  glare  that  came  to  her  eye  with  the  three  words 
revealed  a  desperation  that  would  have  done  battle  with 
the  King  of  Terrors,  had  he  appeared  hi  visible  shape  to 
claim  his  victim. 

More  faintly,  slowly,  trembled  the  life  over  the  sweet 
mouth,  and  the  hands,  like  waxen  shapes,  lay  pulseless  in  the 
mother's  clasp ;  while  through  the  silent  room  flowed  the 
dirge  of  the  sea.  Shaken  by  the  freshening  breeze  of  even- 
ing, the  shutters  of  the  western  window  swung  ajar,  letting 
in  a  golden  ray  upon  mother  and  child,  and  along  lhat  path 
of  light  the  untarnished  soul  of  Baby  Belle  was  borne  by  its 
waiting  angel — home ! 


224  THE   EMPTY    HEART;    OB. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

AUNT  SAKAH  sat  in  the  wide  porch  at  the  back  of  her  house, 
knitting  in  hand.  It  was  a  still,  but  not  oppressive  August 
afternoon.  There  was  not  a  ruffle  on  the  bright  surface  of 
the  river,  and  the  long  meadow  grass  was  as  smoothly  spread 
out  in  the  yellow  sunshine.  From  the  poultry-yard  on  the  left 
arose  a  pleasant  murmur,  and  now  and  then  a  stray  hen  tip 
toed  around  the  end  of  the  house,  singing  idly  as  she  rambled. 
Charley  lay  on  the  green  mound — his  old  reading-room — • 
with  a  book  before  him,  and  to  him  Aunt  Sarah's  motherly 
eyes  turned  most  frequently.  Those  kindly  orbs  were  dimmer 
than  they  were  two  summers  ago,  and  the  gentle  face  was  a 
thought  more  pensive.  A  glance  into  the  sitting-room  win- 
dow, from  where  she  sat,  would  have  showed  one  Uncle  Na- 
than's empty  arm-chair  in  the  chimney  corner,  and  above  it 
were  suspended  his  cane  and  broad-brimmed  hat,  just  as  he 
had  put  them  off  when-  he  took  his  departure  for  a  country 
where  neither  shelter  nor  staff  is  needed.  Aunt  Sarah's  cap 
had  a  widow's  border  now;  and  in  her  faithful  heart  there 
was  a  sadder  void  than  the  death  of  her  children  had  crea- 
ted— loving  parent  though  she  was — and  yet  more  plentiful 
springs  of  sympathy  for  others  bereaved  and  suffering. 

Her  rocking-chair  was  set  near  the  entrance  of  the  hall 
that  bisected  the  dwelling;  and  the  front  and  back  doors 
being  open,  she  had  a  fair  view  of  the  public  road,  whenever 
she  chose  to  look  up  the  lane.  The  Shrewsbury  stage  met 
the  boat  at  four  o'clock,  or  soon  after;  and  hearing  a  rumbling 


HUSKS.  225 

along  the  highway,  which  she  knew  presaged  its  transit 
through  this  end  of  the  village,  the  old  ladv  leaned  forward  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  trunks  upon  the  roof;  this  being  all 
she  could  distinguish  with  certainty  above  the  fence. 

"  Why,  it  is  stopping  here !"  she  ejaculated,  getting  up  to 
btain  a  better  look.  "  Who  upon  earth  can  it  be  ?" 

The  coach  rolled  on,  and  the  passenger  for  the  farm-house 
came  through  the  gate  and  down  the  lane.  She  was  dressed 
in  black,  wore  a  crape  veil,  and  carried  a  small  hand-trunk. 
Witli  hospitable  instinct,  Aunt  Sarah  advanced  to  the  front 
porch  to  meet  her,  still  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  who  it 
could  be." 

"  She  has  a  different  look  from  any  of  the  neighbors ;  and 
there's  nobody  in  York  that  would  be  likely  to  come  to  see 
me,  except  Betsey's  people,  and  it  can't  be  either  of  her  girls !" 

At  this  stage  of  her  cogitations,  the  visitant  reached  the 
step  on  which  the  hostess  stood,  and  put  away  the  long  veil 
from  a  face  so  worn  and  seamed  with  grief,  so  hollow-eyed 
and  old,that  the  good  aunt  screamed  outright  in  her  distressed 
astonishment — 

"  Sarah,  dear  child  !  can  this  be  you  ?" 

"  What  I  am  now,  Aunt  Sarah.  May  I  come  in  and  stay 
with  you  a  little  while  ?" 

"  Stay  with  me,  poor  dai-ling !  As  long  as  you  like,  and 
welcome  !  Come  right  in ;  you  elon't  look  fit  to  stand !" 

She  was  not ;  for,  now  that  the  necessity  for  exertion  was 
removed,  she  was  faint  and  trembling.  Aunt  Sarah  helped 
her  up-stairs  to  the  room  she  had  occupied  at  her  former  visit, 
undressed  her,  and  put  her  to  bed.  Sarah  submitted  like  a 
child,  too  much  exhausted  to  resist  being  made  an  invalid  of, 
or  to  offer  any  explanation  of  her  singular  apparition.  She 
had  not  slept  an  hour  at  a  time  for  many  nights  ;  yet  when 
she  had  drunk  a  cup  of  tea,  and  tried  to  eat  a  bit  of  toast  her 
aunt  prepared  and  brought  up  tp  her,  she  fell  into  a  profound 
10* 


226  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

sluinbe-i,  vhich  lasted  until  long  after  sunrise  on  the  follow- 
ing morning.  Unclosing  her  eyes  then,  they  rested  upon  the 
dear  face,  shaded  by  the  widow's  cap,  that  watched  at  her 
bedside.  A  shadowy  phantom  of  a  smile  flitted  over  her 
features  at  the  recognition. 

"  It  was  not  a  dream,  then  ?"  she  said,  languidly.  "  Bu 
I  have  dreamed  of  you  often,  of  late — every  night  in  which  I 
have  had  any  sleep.  Aunt  Sarah,  I  must  tell  you  why  I  came 
to  you !" 

"  Not  now,  dear,"  Aunt  Sarah  hastened  to  say,  seeing  the 
wild  stare  and  the  cloud  return  to  her  countenance.  "Wait 
until  you  are  stronger.  I  will  bring  up  your  breakfast,  and 
when  you  have  eaten  it,  you  may  try  to  dress,  if  you  like. 
There  will  be  time  enough  for  your  story,  by  and  by.  Char- 
ley is  in  a  great  fidget  to  see  you." 

Sarah  submitted  to  the  delay ;  but  it  was  plain  that  she 
was  not  satisfied  with  it,  and  that  her  mind  would  be  easier 
when  once  the  tale  was  told.  Aunt  Sarah  hindered  her  no 
longer  a  time  than  sufficed  for  her  to  take  the  much  needed 
refreshment,  to  bathe  and  dress,  and  to  see  and  exchange  a 
few  sentences  with  Charley,  who  supported  her  down  to  the 
sitting-room.  There,  resting  among  the  pillows  of  the 
lounge,  Aunt  Sarah  beside  her,  with  the  ubiquitous  knit- 
ting-work in  hand,  lest  too  close  observation  should  con- 
fuse her  niece,  the  stricken  one  unfolded  the  whole  of  her 
sad  history. 

No  more  affecting  proof  could  have  been  given  of  her 
prostrated  mind  and  will  than  this  unreserved  recital.  The 
secret  she  had  sold  conscience  and  liberty  to  preserve,  she 
communicated  now  without  a  blush.  Here — where  she 
had  formed  the  intimacy  that  had  shadowed  so  darkly  her 
after  days — she  detailed  every  step  of  the  wrong  course  to 
which  this  weakness  was  a  key ;  went  over  all — the  stormy 
parting  with  her  husband ;  her  conviction  of  the  mutual 


HUSKS.  227 

peril  she  and  Philip  were  tempting  in  their  daily  com- 
munion; her  resolve  of  self-destruction, — as  circumstantially 
as  if  she  were  relating  the  biography  of  another. 

Aunt  Sarah,  horrified  and  pitiful  by  turns,  struggled  with 
indifferent  success  to  maintain  equal  composure,  and 
against  growing  doubts  of  the  narrator's  sanity.  It  was  a 
striking  and  instructive  contrast :  the  world-weary  woman 
returning  for  consolation  and  advice  to  the  simple-minded 
matron,  to  whom  the  artificial  existence  she  now  heard  de- 
picted— its  gilded  vices  and  giddy  round  of  vanities ;  its 
trials  and  temptations — were  a  wonderful,  a  monstrous  tale, 
as  foreign  to  her  sphere  of  principles  and  feelings  as  if  they 
had  transpired  in  another  world.  But  when  Sarah  came  to 
speak  of  her  child,  her  manner  changed,  her  voice  was 
hoarse  and  uneven,  and  over  the  care-worn  visage  there 
went  such  alternations  of  fierceness  and  heart-breaking  sor- 
row that  the  listening  mother,  upon  whose  soul  the  shadow 
of  her  own  childrens'  graves  still  lay  long  and  dark,  could 
hear  no  more  in  silence. 

"  My  poor  girl !"  she  cried,  falling  on  her  knees,  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  the  reclining  figure.  "Dear 
child !  Our  Father  in  Heaven  pity  and  comfort  you  ! 
There  is  no  help  in  man  for  such  trouble  as  yours !" 

Sarah  had  not  shed  a  tear  in  the  course  of  her  story. 
She  said  afterwards  that  she  had  not  wept  since  they  took 
her  dead  baby  from  her  clasp ;  but  at  this  burst  of  un- 
feigned sympathy,  this  gush  of  pure  love  and  compassion, 
the  burning  rock  was  cleft,  and  a  blessed  flood  streamed 
from  it.  For  some  minutes  they  wept  together  without 
restraint,  and  when  the  more  quiet  grief  of  the  elder 
mourner  was  repressed,  the  other  still  clung,  sobbing,  to 
her  bosom. 

Aunt  Sarah  held  and  soothed  her  as  she  would  have  done  a 
sorrowful  child;  stroking  away  the  hair  from  her  forehead, 


228  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

drying  mid  kissing,  the  tear-stained  cheeks,  with  many  at 
epithet  of  fond  reassurance. 

"Let  me  finish!  There  is  very  little  more!"  resumed 
Sarah,  keeping  her  aunt's  hand  fa.st  in  both  of  hers.  "  We 
went  back  to  the  city,  and  the  next  day  we  laid  her  in 
Greenwood.  We  stayed  at  father's-^I  would  not  return  to 
the  house  that  used  to  be  mine.  Father  was  very  kind,  and 
mother  meant  to  be ;  but  she  tormented  me  with  sugges- 
tions and  consultations  about  my  black  clothes.  Lucy  was 
pining  to  get  back  to  Newport.  She  said  it  was  hot  and 
dull  in  New  York.  Philip  wanted  to  comfort  me,  but  I 
shunned  him,  and  I  think  he  was  hurt  by  my  conduct ;  but 
it  was  best,  was  it  not,  Aunt  Sarah?" 

"  Certainly,  dear !" 

"  I  had  often  imagined  myself  lonely  before  ;  but  I  nevei 
dreamed  of  such  a  horror  of  desolation  as  filled  my  soul 
during  the  two  days  that  I  remained  there,  after  all  was 
over.  Twenty  times  each  night  I  would  start  from  a  fever- 
ish doze,  thinking  that  I  heard  my  baby  cry  or  moan,  as 
she  did  in  the  intervals  of  those  awful  convulsions  ;  and 
then  would  come  in  upon  me,  as  if  I  had  never  felt  it  until 
then,  the  truth  that  I  could  never  see  her  again,  and  that 
my  wicked,  wicked  intention  of  deserting  her  had  brought 
this  judgment  upon  me.  I  could  not  stay  there,  Aunt 
Sarah  !  I  heard  other  voices  besides  my  child's  in  the  air, 
and  saw  strange,  grinning  faces  in  the  darkness.  But  the 
worst  was  to  see  that,  to  every  one  but  me,  the  world  was  the 
same  that  it  had  ever  been.  Father  looked  grave  when  I 
was  in  his  sight ;  but  the  children  could  laugh  and  talk  as 
if  nothing  liad  happened,  and  I  have  seen  mother  and  Lucy 
chatting  merrily  in  the  room  with  the  dressmaker  over  my 
new  dresses,  while  they  were  criticizing  the  crape  trim- 
mings. And  I  had  buried  my  last  earthly  hope  in  my 
baby's  grave !  Then  I  remembered  you.  and  how  you 


HUSKS.  229 

had  talked  to  me  of  your  lost  children,  and  how  you 
had  assured  me  of  a  home  in  your  heart  and  house  when- 
ever I  chose  to  claim  it,  and  I  believed  in  you,  Aunt  Sarah ! 
There  are  not  many  whom  I  do  trust ;  but  I  was  sure  you 
never  said  what  you  did  not  mean.  I  would  not  tell  them 
that  I  was  coming,  for  I  feared  they  would  prevent  me.  I 
slipped  out  of  the  house  when  none  of  them  were  at  home, 
and  went  to  the  nearest  hack-stand,  where  I  got  into  a  car- 
riage and  drove  down  to  the  boat." 

"  My  dear,  did  you  leave  no  letter  to  let  them  know  where 
you  had  gone  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am.  I  was  afraid  they  would  come  or  send  for 
me,  and  I  cannot  go  back." 

"  But  your  father — your  mother !  Did  you  not  think  how 
distressed  they  would  be  when  they  missed  you  ?  And  your 
reputation  ?  What  will  be  said  when  it  is  known  that  you 
have  left  your  father's  house,  and  410  one  knows  where  you 
are  ?  You  are  very  weak  and  tired,  dear ;  but  you  must  sit 
up,  right  away,  and  write  a  note  home.  Tell  them  that  I 
will  take  care  of  you  as  long  as  you  like  to  stay  with  me  ; 
but  don't  lose  a  minute !  You  may  be  in  time  for  the  after- 
noon boat." 

Sarah  obeyed  ;  and  the  careful  old  lady  hurried  Charley 
off  to  the  boat,  with  directions  to  place  the  billet  in  the 
hands  of  the  captain,  who  was  a  personal  friend,  and  could 
be  relied  upon  to  post  it  directly  he  reached  the  city. 

Mr.  Hunt  replied  without  delay.  Sarah's  absence  had  given 
rise  to  the  most  harrowing  conjectures,  made  plausible  by 
her  extreme  melancholy  and  fitful  behavior  since  her  infant's 
death.  The  police  had  been  privately  notified  of  her  dis- 
appearance, and  cautiously  worded  advertisements  inserted 
in  the  papers.  He  regretted  to  add  that  Mr.  Marlow,  who, 
as  Mr.  Hammond's  nearest  friend,  was  informed  of  the  dis- 
tressing occurrence,  had  thought  proper  to  communicate  the 


230  THE    EMPTY    II  E  A  11  T  J     OB, 

intelligence  to  Mr.  H.  before  Sarah's  note  arrived,  and  the 
steamer  bearing  the  letter  had  sailed.  Mr.  Hunt  expressed 
himself  as  entirely  willing  that  his  daughter  should  remain 
in  her  present  retreat  until  her  health  of  mind  and  body  was 
re-established,  but  did  not  conceal  his  disapprobation  of  the 
manner  of  her  leaving  home. 

Aunt  Sarah  looked  concerned  as  she  read  this  epistle, 
which  her  niece  had  passed  over  to  her. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  your  husband,  my  dear.  This  affliction, 
coming  so  close  upon  the  other,  will  be  a  dreadful  blow.  It 
is  a  pity  they  did  not  wait  awhile,  until  they  knew  some- 
thing of  your  whereabouts,  before  writing  to  him." 

"  I  am  more  sorry  that  the  news  must  be  contradicted," 
was  the  reply.  "  As  we  are  now  situated,  the  certainty  of 
my  death  would  be  a  relief  to  him.  This  was  my  reflection 
that  night — "  She  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 

"  My  dear !"  Aunt  Sarah  removed  her  spectacles,  and 
surveyed  her  niece  with  her  kind,  serious  eyes.  "  Have  you 
made  up  your  mind  to  live  separate  from  your  husband  for 
the  rest  of  your  life  ?" 

"  What  else  should  I  do,  aunt  ?  He  will  never  come  back 
unless  I  promise  to  love  him,  and  that  cannot  be." 

"  That  doesn't  alter  the  fact  of  your  duty,  as  I  look  at  it. 
You  ought  to  make  him  an  offer  to  do  right,  at  any  rate. 
Jt  would  have  been  easier  and  pleasanter  to  live  with  him, 
if  you  had  felt  for  him  as  a  woman  should  for  the  man  she 
marries  ;  but  you  are  married  to  him,  and  in.  the  sight  of  the 
Lord  you  ought  to  cleave  to  him,  and  him  only.  That  is  a 
solemn  covenant,  dear — '  for  richer,  for  poorer ;  for  better, 
for  worse !'  '  Those  whom  God  hath  joined  together,  let 
not  man  put  asunder  !'  It  doesn't  excuse  people,  who  take 
these  vows  upon  them  when  the  right  spirit  is  wanting,  that 
they  never  thought  how  awful  the  engagement  was.  Their 
obligations  are  just  the  same,  whether  they  love  or  not." 


23J 


"  The  respoiisiDillty  does  not  rest  with  me.  I  performed 
my  duty  while  we  were  together.  The  separation  was  his 
act,  and  he  must  abide  the  consequences.  I  have  erred 
greatly,  Aunt  Sarah ;  but  ever  since  the  night  of  our  rupture, 
my  conscience  has  been  easy  with  respect  to  Mr  Hammond. 
I  confessed  that  I  had  misled  him,  and  begged  his  pardon. 
Could  I  do  more  ?" 

"  Put  the  case  to  yourself,  child  !  Do  not  be  angry  if  I 
speak  out  my  mind,  and  use  against  you  some  things  you 
have  told  me.  When  you  saw  that  Philip  was  growing  to 
like  you  better  and  better,  and  that  you  felt  nearer  to  him 
every  day,  why  did  you  determine  to  die  sooner  than  to 
have  things  go  on  so  ?" 

"  Because  it  would  have  been  a  crime  for  us  to  love  each 
other — infamous  treachery  to  my  sister,  to  his  wife,  for  us  to 
name  the  word  between  us." 

"  And  how  would  Lucy  have  felt,  if  you  had  come  to  an 
understanding  and  spoken  out  the  true  feeling  of  your 
hearts  ?" 

"  Hera  5s  a  careless,  indolent  nature,  but  this  insult  would 
have  aroused  her.  She  would  never  have  forgiven  him  or 
me,  had  she  suspected  a  warmer  sentiment  on  either  side 
than  that  of  friendship." 

"  But  an  honorable,  affectionate  man  like  your  husband, 
who  thought  his  wife  the  most  precious  thing  in  the  world, 
was  to  forget  his  disappointment,  overlook  your  lack  of  love 
and  truth  towards  him,  only  because  you  allowed  that  he 
had  found  out  your  real  feelings  at  last,  and  all  the  excuse 
you  could  give  was  that  you  could  not  help  them  !  You 
were  the  one  in  fault  all  the  way  through,  from  the  day  you 
engaged  to  marry  him,  up  to  the  minute  when  you  would 
not  say  the  word  he  begged  from  you  to  keep  him  at  home. 
It  is  right  that  all  the  advance  should  come  from  you." 

High-spirited  as  Sarah  was,  she  was  not  angered  by  this 


232  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OR, 

plain-speaking.  "Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend;'* 
and  she  felt  that  she  had  but  this  one.  Aunt  Sarah  stu- 
died her  thoughtful  countenance  before  she  renewed'  the 
argument. 

"  I  am  an  old-fashioned  woman,  dear — born  and  bred  in 
the  country,  where,  thank  God  !  I  have  spent  all  my  life. 
But  I've  been  thinking  about  your  story  of  the  way  peopler 
act  and  feel  up  there  in  York,  and  maybe  in  all  other  great, 
fine,  money-making  cities,  and  my  notion  is  just  this.  I  look 
back  of  their  pushing  and  straining  after  riches,  and  show, 
and  worldly  vanities ;  every  man  for  himself,  and  the  one 
that  climbs  highest,  forgetting  as  soon  as  he  gets  there  that 
he  was  ever  any  lower,  and  ready  to  kick  over  anybody  that 
tries  to  get  alongside  of  him  ;  and  I  see  that  they  have  lost 
sight  of  the  second  great  commandment — '  Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself.'  Then  I  look  back  of  this  too,  and 
I  see  where  the  greatest  sin  is,  and — dear,  bear  with  me ! 
I  see  where  you  have  gone  furthest  astray.  Here's  a  pas- 
sage I  was  reading  this  morning  that  tells  the  whole  story." 
She  raised  the  Bible  from  the  table,  and  laid  it  upon  Sarah's 
lap,  pointing  as  she  did  so  to  these  words  enclosed  in  brack- 
ets:— 

"  Because  thou  hast  forgotten  the  God  of  thy  salvation, 
and  hast  not  been  mindful  of  the  rock  of  thy  strength,  there- 
fore shalt  thou  plant  pleasant  plants,  and  shalt  set  it  with 
strange  slips.  In  the  day  thou  shalt  make  thy  plant  to  grow, 
and  in  the  morning  shalt  thou  make  thy  seed  to  flourish ; 
]>ut  the  harvest  shall  be  a  heap  in  the  day  of  grief  and  des- 
perate so/row/" 

Mrs.  Hunt  would  have  regarded  as  an  insult  any  express* 
ed  doubt  of  her  religious  principles  and  practice.  She  had 
a  desirable  pew  in  the  fashionable  church  which  was  nearest 
her  residence,  and,  stormy  Sabbaths  excepted,  it  was  gen- 
erally full  at  morning  service.  When  her  children  were 


HUSKS.  233 

presentable  as  to  looks,  very  young  babies  being  seldom 
pretty,  they  were  offered  in  fine  lawn  and  Valenciennes  at 
the  font  for  the  rite  of  baptism ;  and  not  a  confirmation  had 
passed  since  her  daughters  were  grown,  that  she  did  not 
fancy  hoAV  interesting  they  would  look,  kneeling  before  the 
surpliced  bishop,  heads  gracefully  bowed,  and  the  regards 
of  the  whole  congregation  fixed  upon  them.  Sarah  never 
could  be  brought  to  the  performance  of  the  commonest  act 
of  public  worship,  unless  it  was  to  rise  with  the  rest,  when 
a  standing  posture  was  prescribed  by  the  prayer-book ;  and 
she  shocked  her  mother  by  declaring  that  she  only  did  this 
because  she  was  tired  of  sitting !  Lucy's  serene  grace  of  de- 
voutness  was  beautiful,  if  not  edifying  to  behold.  Those 
who  occupied  adjacent  pews  involuntarily  suppressed  their 
responses  as  her  mellow  tones  repeated,  with  melancholy 
sweetness — "  Have  mercy  upon  us,  miserable  sinners !"  And 
as  the  melting  cadences  entranced  their  ears,  the  lovely 
penitent  was  speculating  upon  the  probable  cost  of  Miss 
Hauton's  Parisian  hat,  or  coveting  Mrs.  Beau  Monde's  sable 
cloak. 

If  Sarah  had  ever  heard  of  regeneration,  it  was  as  a  tech- 
nical phrase  of  the  church  articles  and  christening  service. 
Of  its  practical  meaning,  its  inward  application,  its  absolute 
necessity  to  the  safety  of  the  soul,  she  had  as  vague  a  con- 
ception as  a  Parsee  or  New  Zealand  cannibal  would  have 
formed.  She  had  read  the  Bible  in  connection  with  rhetori- 
cal lectures,  and  admired  it  as  a  noble  specimen  of  Oriental 
literature.  What  other  associations  could  she  have  with  it  ? 
A  handsome  copy  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  surmounted  by  a 
book  of  common  prayer,  lay  on  a  stand  in  Mrs.  Hunt's  third 
and  rear  parlor,  and  was  dusted  when  a  like  attention  wag 
paid  to  the  other  ornaments  of  tables  and  etag&res.  An 
Oxford  edition,  russet  antique,  formed  one  of  the  wedding- 
gifts  of  e.ich  of  the  sisters,  and  in  due  time  was  laid  in  pious 


2.')4  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OK, 

pomp  on  its  purple  pillow  in  the  library  corner.  It  was 
hardly  strange,  then,  that  the  quotation,  so  apposite  to  the 
case  in  point,  should  fail  to  impress  her  very  strongly.  A  imt" 
Sarah  had  gone  out,  deeming  solitary  reflection  the  b^-st 
means  of  enforcing  the  lesson  she  had  tried  to  inculcate,  and 
after  re-reading  the  two  verses,  without  further  appropria- 
tion of  their  meanir.g,  Sarah  turned  leaf  after  leaf  of  the  vol- 
ume, catching  here  and  there  a  sentence  of  the  large  print, 
so  grateful  to  the  failing  sight  of  her  who  was  its  daily 
student. 

"  David  said  unto  his  servants — '  Is  the  child  dead  ?' 
And  they  said,  <  He  is  dead !' " 

The  smitten  chord  in  the  mother's  heart  sent  out  a  ring 
of  pain,  and  her  listless  hand  paused  upon  the  open  page. 
It  is  a  simple  story — the  royal  parent's  unavailing  wrestlo 
with  the  Chastener,  the  dread  end  of  his  suspense,  and  the 
affliction,  made  manifest  in  the  calm  resignation,  the  sancti- 
fied trust  of  the  mourner.  But  when  received  as  Sarah 
read  it,  with  the  vision  of  a  similar  death-scene  intermixing 
itself  with  its  unadorned  details,  the  fresh  blood  still  welling 
from  the  wound  made  by  the  tearing  away  of  a  portion  of 
one's  own  life,  every  line  is  fraught  with  truth  and  pathos. 

"  Can  I  bring  him  back  again  ?  I  shah1  go  to  him,  but  he 
shall  not  return  to  me !" 

"  Go  to  her !     Oh,  if  I  could !     My  baby !  my  baby !" 

To  the  low,  sad  cry  succeeded  a  season  of  yearning  and 
of  tears.  It  was  an  echo  of  the  wail  of  the  heathen  mother 
who,  centuries  ago,  having  seen  her  babes  slain  before  her 
eyes,  cried  aloud,  in  unselfish  agony,  as  the  sword,  reeking 
with  their  blood,  was  plunged  into  her  own  bosom — u  Oh,  my 
children !  where  are  ye  ?" 

Sleep  on,  in  thy  lowly  bed  upon  the  hillside,  sweet  Baby 
Belle !  Like  the  pale  buds  that  are  fading  with  thee  in  thy 
narrow  resting-place,  thy  mission  on  earth  is  accomplished. 


235 


Joy,  young  freed  spirit,  if,  stealing  through  the  melodies  of 
Heaven,  there  comes  to  thee  the  whisper  of  that  mother's 
call !  Fair  lamb  !  the  love  that  folded  thee  in  the  Shepherd's 
arms  designed  likewise,  in  recalling  thee,  to  lure  the  wander- 
ing parent  home ! 


236  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

"Mr  DEAR  LEWIS:  Before  you  receive  this  letter,  yott 
will  have  had  the  explanation  of  my  disappearance  from 
New  York.  A  merciful  Providence  directed  me,  in  my 
partial  derangement,  to  this  peaceful  retreat.  Here  I  have 
found  rest  for  body  and  soul — peace  such  as  the  world  could 
never  give  the  heart,  even  were  it  not  bowed  down  by  a 
sorrow  like  mine.  Not  that  I  forget  past  errors ;  nor  that 
the  review  does  not  humble  me  in  the  dust.  I  confess,  with 
shame  and  bitterness  of  spirit,  my  wasted  years,  my  un- 
sanctified  affections,  my  evil  passions.  But  for  the  assurance 
of  the  Father's  pardon,  the  Saviour's  loving  pity,  the  black 
catalogue  would  strike  me  dead  with  horror  and  anguish. 
It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  be  made  to  see  one's  self  as  she  is ; 
to  scan  in  terrified  solicitude  the  record  of  a  life,  and  find 
there  nothing  better  than  pride,  misanthropy,  falsehood, 
hatred  of  men — rebellion  against  God.  It  is  a  sweet  ex- 
perience to  taste,  however  tremblingly,  the  consolations  of 
the  Friend  who  invites  the  weary  and  heavy-laden  to  draw 
near  and  learn  of  Him.  In  His  strength — not  in  that  feeble- 
ness I  once  called  power — have  I  resolved  to  lead  a  new 
life.  Of  the  causes  which  have  contributed  to  produce  this 
change,  we  will  speak  more  at  length  when  we  meet. 

"  '  "When  we  meet !'  Lewis,  will  you,  can  you  forget  your 
manifold  wrongs  and  come  back  to  me  ?  I  do  not  plead, 
now,  '  for  the  sake  of  our  child.'  Her  sinless  soul  hence- 
forth can  know  no  pain  or  woe.  God  saw  that  I  was  not 


HUSKS.  237 

worthy  of  her.  and  He  took  her.  In  the  earlier  weeks  of 
my  selfish  mourning,  I  had  no  thought  of  your  bereavement. 
Latterly,  I  have  longed  to  comfort  you,  for  I  know  that  your 
heart  is  riven  by  this  stroke.  She  was  your  joy,  as  she  was 
my  angel  of  peace.  Her  loss  is  our  common  sorrow.  Shall 
it  not  draw  us  together  ?  Yet,  as  I  have  said,  our  estrange- 
ment cannot  now  affect  her.  Thoughtless  of  evil,  she  passed 
away.  Had  she  lived,  the  Omniscient  only  knows  what 
grief  and  mortification  might  have  darkened  her  pathway. 
Nor  do  I  desire  a  reconciliation  as  a  shield  from  the  world's 
sneer  or  ban.  I  hold  its  applause  and  its  censure  alike 
cheaply.  In  prosperity,  its  favors  were  painted,  tasteless 
fruit ;  in  adversity,  it  would  have  fed  my  starving  heart 
with  husks.  But  for  my  sake — by  the  thought  of  my  late 
and  sore  repentance ;  by  the  remorse  that  must  gnaw  my 
spirit,  when  I  remember  your  noble  trust  in  me,  your  un- 
swerving fidelity,  your  generous  love  and  my  base  requital 
of  it  all ;  by  the  sorrow  that  never  leaves  me  by  day  or  by 
night — forgive  me,  and  return  to  the  home  we  have  both 
forsaken  !  I  will  serve  you  very  faithfully,  my  husband  !  I 
have  gained  other  and  higher  views  of  the  marriage  relation 
within  a  short  time  past.  However  presumptuously  I  may 
have  assumed  its  responsibilities,  however  unworthily  I  per- 
formed its  duties  in  former  days,  I  would  enter  upon  our  re- 
ei)2;ageinent  with  a  solemn  sense  of  what  I  owe  to  you  and 
to  Him  who  united  us.  You  must  have  despised  me  at  our 
parting,  and  since.  Perhaps  you  have  come  to  think  of  me 
with  dislike  as  well  as  contempt.  I  will  bear  this — grievous 
though  the  burden  will  be — as  a  part  of  my  j-ighteous  punish- 
ment. I  will  never  murmur — never,  even  in  thought,  accuso 
you  of  unjust  harshness,  if  you  will  grant  me  the  opportunity 
to  make  what  amends  I  can  for  all  you  have  lost  and  suf 
fered  through  my  faulL" 

Sarah  was  still  far  from  strong  ;  and  wearied  as  much  by 


238  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OB, 

the  intensity  of  her  feelings  as  by  the  manual  effort  of 
writing,  she  laid  the  pen  down,  and  leaned  back  in  the 
cushioned  chair.  Her  table  stood  in  the  pai'lor  beneath  the 
window  overlooking  the  river.  The  room .  was  pi-im  and 
jlean,  as  of  yore,  with  its  straight  lines  of  chairs  ;  its  shining 
specks  of  mirrors  ;  the  grita  black  profiles  above  the  mantel, 
find  the  green  boughs  in  the  fire-place.  The  outer  scene  was  in 
its  general  features  that  which  the  girl  had  surveyed,  with 
pleased  surprise,  the  July  evening  of  her  arrival  here  two 
years  ago. 

Only  two  years  !  The  sufferings  and  life-lessons  of  twenty 
had  been  crowded  into  that  brief  space.  The  meadows  were 
growing  sere,  as  if  scorching  winds  had  swept  over  them, 
and  the  stream  reflected  truthfully,  yet,  one  could  have  fan- 
cied, sadly,  the  changing  foliage  fringing  its  borders.  But 
the  sky,  with  its  tender  blue  and  its  fleecy  clouds,  ever  shift- 
ing, yet  ever  retaining  their  likeness  to  one  another — the 
river's  smooth,  steady  flow,  were  the  same ;  fit  emblems 
both  of  them  of  counsels  which  are  mercy  and  truth  through 
all  their  workings ;  of  love  that  »bideth  forever ! 

The  train  of  thought  was  replete  with  refreshing  to  the 
spirit  that  was  striving,  in  prayer  and  watchfulness,  to  adhere 
to  the  right,  to  accept,  with  meek  submission,  all  that  her 
cup  yet  held  of  pungent  or  nauseous  lees.  There  was  no 
affectation  in  the  humble  tone  of  her  letter.  She  would  not 
begin  it  until  she  had  mastered  the  stubborn  remnant  of  her 
native  pride.  It  should  be  nothing  to  her  that  her  husband 
had  wilfully  separated  himself  from  her,  and  refused  her 
overtures  of  reconcilement.  If  this  was  unkindness,  it  was 
all  she  could  reproach  him  with  in  the  course  of  time  they 
had  spent  together.  He  had  been  a  true  friend,  an  honorable 
protector,  and  dimly  still,  but  more  justly  than  ever  before, 
she  perceived  that  into  his  love  for  her  there  had  entered 
none  of  the  merely  prudential  considerations,  the  cool  calcu- 


HUSKS.  239 

lations,  wherewith  she  used  to  account  for  his  choice  of  her- 
self as  a  helpmeet.  Where,  in  the  world's  heartless  circles, 
could  she  point  out  another  wife  as  much  indulged,  as  much 
honored  in  public  and  in  private,  as  she  once  was  by  him  ? 
Mournfully,  if  not  lovingly,  she  dwelt  upon  the  countless 
evidences  of  his  cordial  fulfilment,  in  letter  and  in  spirit,  of 
his  part  of  their  mutual  engagement,  with  something  of  the 
sinking  of  heart  the  alchemist  may  have  felt  when,  after  he 
had,  by  a  mechanical  and  habitual  fling  of  his  arm,  tossed 
the  eagerly-sought  philosopher's  stone  into  the  sea  as  a 
worthless  pebble,  he  discovered  that  the  divining  steel  he 
heldliad  been  changed  to  gold  by  its  touch. 

To  whom  of  us  has  not  an  experience  similar  to  this  come  ? 
It  may  be  that  the  eyes  which  once  besought  affection  with 
dumb  and  disregarded  eloquence  are  closed  and  rayless  for 
all  future  time  ;  the  lips  that  told,  with  modest  franknesSj 
how  dear  we  were  to  hearts  we  cared  not  then  to  win,  are 
now  but  silent  dust.  Or,  perchance,  grieved  by  indifference, 
repelled  by  unkindness,  those  hearts  have  sought  and  found 
in  other  loves  solace  for  the  pain  we,  in  our  blindness,  in- 
flicted. It  matters  little  whether  they  be  dead  to  all  the 
w,orld,  or  only  to  us.  In  either  case,  the  longing  and  despair 
of  our  lonely  lives  are  rendered  the  more  unendurable  from 
the  flash  of  tardy  truth  that  shows  us,  side  by  side  with  our 
actual  poverty  of  heart  riches,  the  tranquil  beauty  of  the 
pictured  "  might  have  been." 

Aunt  Sarah  had  gone  on  a  visit  to  a  neighbor ;  the  hired 
girl  was  in  the  distant  wash-house ;  and  Charley  considered 
it  his  duty  to  linger  within  easy  reach  of  his  cousin,  should 
she  need  him  for  any  purpose.  To  guard  her  from  all  chance 
of  intrusion,  he  stationed  himself  on  the  front  porch  steps, 
with  his  book  on  his  knee.  For  an  hour,  he  read  on  unin- 
terruptedly ;  then,  glancing  up  as  he  turned  a  leaf,  he  saw  a 
gentleman  coming  down  the  gravel-walk.  He  looked  thin 


240  THE    EMPTY    HEART;     OK, 

and  anxious,  and  his  restless  eye  wandered  from  door  to 
windows,  as  in  expectation  of  seeing  some  one  besides  the 
boy.  With  a  ready  apprehension  of  his  infirmity,  only  to 
be  accounted  for  by  some  prior  knowledge  of  the  person  he 
saluted,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  card,  which  he  presented 
before  he  shook  hands  with  the  silent  host.  Charley's  in- 
telligent face  was  one  beam  of  pleasure  as  he  read,  and  his 
warm  grasp  showed  his  sympathy  in  the  happiness  he  fancied 
was  in  store  for  his  cousin.  Inviting  the  guest  by  a  gesture 
to  follow  him,  he  went  softly  to  the  parlor-door,  tapped 
lightly — too  lightly,  indeed,  to  attract  the  notice  of  the 
musing  occupant  of  the  room,  then  drew  back  the  bolt,  ad- 
mitted the  stranger,  and  delicately  withdrew. 

Sarah  heard  the  door  open  and  Charley's  retreating  foot- 
steps, and,  supposing  that  he  had  peeped  in  to  see  that  she 
was  comfortable  and  wanted  for  nothing,  she  did  not  look 
around.  The  intruder  stood  still  one  step  within  the  room, 
as  if  unable  to  advance  or  speak.  The  languid  attitude  of 
the  figure  before  him,  so  unlike  the  self-poise  and  quiet  ener- 
gy of  her  former  deportment,  her  black  dress,  even  the  wast- 
ed hands  dropped  so  wearily  upon  her  lap,  told  of  the 
storm  that  had  passed  over  her,  the  utter  revolution  in  her 
life  and  nature.  A  struggling  sigh  he  could  not  repress 
broke  from  the  gazer's  breast,  and  Sarah  turned  hastily  to- 
wards him.  She  did  not  swoon,  as  he  feared  she  would. 
A  thrill,  like  an  electric  shock,  shook  her  from  head  to  foot ; 
a  wild  inquiry  looked  from  her  eyes;  a  question  of  the  reali- 
ty of  the  appearance,  succeeding  so  closely  to — did  it  grow 
jin  of  her  revery  ? 

Lewis  put  this  imagination  to  flight;     „ 

"  Sarah  !"  he  said,  pressing  in  his  the  hands  she  extended 
mutely.  "  They  told  me  you  were  lost,  and  I  hurried  home 
to  find  you.  I  could  not  wait  for  your  permission  to  come 
to  you,  when  I  learned  in  New  York  that  I  had  a  living 


HUSKS.  li-tl 

wife !  Tlie  loss  of  the  child  was  heavy  enough ;  but  this —  " 
He  could  say  no  more. 

"  I  am  thankful !  I  am  glad  that  you  are  here!"  A  faint, 
beautiful  smile  shone  over  her  wan  features.  "And  our 
baby,  Lewis !  We  must  remember  that  she  is  an  an  go] 
now !" 

11 


242  THE    EMPTY    HEART:     OB, 


CHAPTER   XX. 

To  no  one  except  Aunt  Sarah  were  the  facts  of  the 
estrangement  and  reconciliation  of  her  relatives  ever  re- 
vealed, and  within  her  faithful  bosom  the  secret  was  hid 
den  as  securely  as  in  a  tomb. 

Great  was  the  chagrin  of  gossips,  male  and  female, 
when  it  was  known  that  Mrs.  Hammond's  strange  flight 
from  her  father's  house,  which  had  leaked  out  nobody 
knew  how,  and  been  variously  construed  into  an  elope- 
ment, a  freak  of  derangement,  and  a  deliberate  intention 
of  suicide,  according  to  the  de'grees  of  charity  possessed 
by  the  theorists,  was  a  very  innocent  and  unromantio 
journey  to  the  country  home  of  her  favorite  aunt  and 
godmother,  a  lady  of  ample  fortune  and  benevolent  heart, 
who  would, in  all  probability,  make  her  namesake  her  heiress. 
Under  her  care,  and  for  the  benefit  of  the  seclusion  so  con- 
genial to  one  in  her  affliction,  and  the  salt  air  so  necessary 
for  the  restoration  of  her  impaired  health,  Mrs.  Hammond 
had  remained  until  her  husband's  return  from  abroad. 

Mrs.  Hunt  had  told  Mrs.  A.,  who  had  told  Mrs.  B.,  who  re- 
peated it  to  Mrs.  C.,  how  he  had  not  stopped  in  New  York  an 
hour  after  he  stepped  ashore  from  the  Adriatic.  He  hurried 
to  the  bank,  and  ascertained  from  Mr.  Hunt  that  his  wife  was 
with  her  aunt,  and  that  a  boat  which  would  land  him  near 
Shrewsbury  was  to  leave  in  fifteen  minutes.  So  he  drove 
down  post-haste,  and  jumped  on  board  of  her  after  the 
plank  had  been  drawn  in  and  the  wheels  began  to  move. 


HUSKS.  243 

There  never  was  a  more  devoted  husband  or  a  more  attached 
pair,  Mrs.  Hunt  affirmed. 

"More  than  she  could  say  for  that  flirting  Mrs.  Benson 
and  her  other  half,"  agreed  A.  B.  and  C.,  unanimously. 

"Her  conduct  at  Newport  was  scandalous,  and  would 
have  been  outrageous  if  he  had  not  watched  her  bike 
a  lynx !"  said  Mrs.  Beau  Monde,  who  had  never  been  able 
to  secure  one-half  as  many  admirers  as  had  Lucy,  and 
hated  her  as  honestly  as  if  they  were  a  couple  of  Biddie8 
pulling  caps  for  Patrick  or  Murphy. 

"  I  don't  see  why  he  should  have  felt  jealous,  I  am  sure. 
He  wasn't  dying  of  love  for  her  !  That  could  be  seen  with 
half  an  eye.  They  say  he  loved  Mrs.  Hammond  before  he 
addressed  her  sister,  and  married  this  one  out  of  spite,"  re- 
joined Mrs.  Townes,  who  had  made  beaux  yeux  at  the 
distingue  Southerner  for  three  whole  evenings,  and  won  only 
the  most  indifferent  glances  in  requital. 

"  Mrs.  Hammond  behaved  very  prudently !"  prorounced 
Mrs.  Greyling,  "  and  dressed  very  well.  I  suppose  Mr. 
Hammond  brought  her  some  elegant  things  from  abroad. 
Pity  she  is  in  mourning,  and  must  dress  plainly  at  present ! 
If  I  were  in  her  place — as  it  was  only  a  baby — I  would  not 
wear  black  more  than  six  months,  unless  it  was  very  becom- 
ing." 

"  She  has  become  very  religious,  you  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Parton. 

"Indeed !  People  are  apt  to,  I  think,  when  there  haa 
been  death  in  the  family,"  concluded  Mrs.  Greyling,  pensive- 
ly. "  I  remember,  when  my  poor  sister  died,  I  used  to 
look  forward  to  church  and  Sunday  with  real  pleasure.  I 
could  not  go  anywhere  on  week-days,  you  know,  although 
there  were  piles  of  tickets  lying  in  my  card-receiver,  and  we 
had  just  taken  a'  bo?  at  the  opera  that  very  winter  1  I  de- 
clare, I  should  have  lost  the  run  of  the  fashions  entirely, 


244      THE  EMPTY  HEART;  OR,  HUSKS. 

and  forgotten  people's  faces,  if  I  had  not  gone  to  church.  I 
dare  say,  too,  that  she  finds  some  comfort  in  religion — poor 
woman  I  if  what  the  preachers  and  good  books  tell  us  be 
true." 

Had  Sarah  found  comfort  ? 

Look  we,  for  reply,  to  the  chastened  lustre  of  the  eye,! 
where  once  burned  restless  fires,  like  the  sunward  gaze  ot 
the  imprisoned  eagle  •  to  the  holy  serenity  struggling  through 
and  finally  dispelling  the  clouds  of  memory  and  regret  that, 
at  times,  would  roll  in  between  her  soul  and  the  bright, 
sustaining  hope  upon  which  Faith  would  have  its  regards 
forever  fixed  ;  to  her  daily  life,  sanctified  by  prayer,  benefi- 
cent in  good  woVks,  and  by  its  unostentatious  loveliness 
winning  others,  first  to  admire,  then  to  imitate ;  to  the  wife- 
ly submission  and  loving  kindness  of  her  bearing  to  her  hus 
band,  her  grateful  estimate  of  the  affection  he  lavished  upon 
her,  the  deep,  true  tenderness  growing  up  in  her  heart  for 
this  fond  and  noble  companion ;  look  we,  lastly,  to  the 
snowy  marble  guarding  that  tiny  mound  in  Greenwood, 
where  t^e  mother  once  believed  that  hope  and  joy 
buried  1  >  know  no  awaking. 

'  "BABY  BELLE," 

INFANT   DAUGHTER    OF 

LEWIS  AND  SARAH  HAMMOND. 

,  .SHE    WENT    HOME 

July  16,  1858,  aged  8  months. 

ulsit  well  with  thee  f    Is  it  well  with  thy  husband  t 

It  U  wett  with  the  child  f    And  she  answered, 

"  IT   IS  WELL  1" 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE/ 


"FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 


CHAPTER  L 

•     ' 

"  I  COULD  never  love  where  I  did  not  respect." 

11  Then,  if  you  ever  cease  to  respect  me,  I  shall  know 
my  fate  without  being  informed  of  it  by  word  of  mouth." 

"How  absurd!" 

Their  marriage  day  was  just  a  month  old,  and  they  had 
spent  a  long  afternoon  together,  without  other  companion ; 
strolling  along  the  river  bank,  penetrating  the  cool,  deep 
recesses  of  the  woods,  or  climbing  the  bold  steeps  that  jut- 
ted over  the  brink  of  the  stream.  It  was  a  wild,  moun- 
tainous district,  and  they  had  not  seen  another  being 
besides  themselves  in  their  ramble.  The  wife  sat  now  upon 
the  summit  of  a  huge,  shapeless  mass  of  gray  stone,  and  the 
husband  lay  on  the  mossy  carpet  that  covered  the  broad, 
flat  top  of  the  boulder,  his  head  in  the  lap  of  his  bride. 

A  finer  specimen  of  manly  beauty  can  hardly  be  imag- 
ined than  he  presented  in  this  attitude  of  careless  grace. 
His  hat  lay  beside  him  on  the  moss,  and  the  hand  that 
toyed  with  his  hair  had  tossed  it  back  from  his  forehead  — 
perhaps  unwittingly,  more  probably  because  the  owner  of 
the  hand  wished  to  have  a  better  view  of  the  visage  she 
thought  the  handsomest  in  the  world.  His  brow  was 

(247) 


248 


smooth  and  fair  —  not  too  high  ;  his  eyes,  large,  dark,  and 
soft,  had  the  rarely  attractive  quality  of  changing  color  with 
every  phase  of  emotion.  Just  now,  they  were  brown,  lov- 
ing, and  happy,  with  the  least  possible  sparkle  of  fun  shining 
up  through  their  depths.  His  nose  had  the  straight  comeli- 
ness and  delicate  nostrils  of  the  Greek  Antinous ;  his  chin 
was  well-shaped  and  slightly  cleft ;  and  a  jetty  moustache, 
curling  and  silky,  showed  to  dazzling  advantage  a  set  of 
perfect  teeth.  If  there  was  a  flaw  in  the  face,  it  was  the 
mouth.  Beautiful  and  sensitive  as  a  woman's,  it  was  a 
trifle  too  small,  and  the  lower  lip  too  full  to  bear  out  the 
impression  of  manliness  and  strength  created  by  the  rest  of 
his  physiognomy  and  his  athletic  frame.  He  was  six  feet 
in  height,  with  the  shoulders  and  muscles  of  a  gladiator, 
without  the  brutal  outlines  that  characterize  the  coarser- 
blooded  human  animal.  He  was  not  a  dandy,  yet  the  care- 
ful arrangement  and  stylish  pattern  of  his  clothing,  although 
it  was  a  simple  summer  suit  of  light  cloth,  and  the  cut  of 
his  hair,  wotild  have  told  the  observant  looker-on  that  he 
was  aware  of  and  appreciated  his  personal  gifts. 

"  Handsome  Syd  Bentley "  had  been  the  toast  of  the 
girls,  the  envy  of  his  fellow-bachelors  too  long  not  to  have 
arrived  at  a  tolerably  accurate  estimate  of  his  reputed 
worth.  He  had  been  told  that  he  was  irresistible  ever  since 
he  discarded  roundabouts ;  told,  in  so  many  words,  by  his 
mother  and  sisters,  in  whose  eyes  he  was  a  nonpareil  of  man- 
hood ;  by  his  masculine  associates,  some  grudgingly,  others 
freely  and  generously  ;  and,  in  yet  more  flattering  language 
by  the  alluring  glances,  the  sighs  and  blushes  of  his  fair 
acquaintances.  Nor  were  his  good  looks  his  solitary  recom- 
mendation to  popular  favor.  His  wealthy  father  had  dis- 
bursed untold  sums  for  his  education  and  travelling  ex- 
penses. He  was  a  fine  conversationalist;  sang  well  and 
danced  gracefully ;  rode  like  a  Centaur ;  was  a  cunning  mas« 


"FOR  BETTER,   FOR   WORSE."  240 

tor  of  fence,  and  a  match  for  any  second-rate  pugilist  in  box- 
ing. To  these  latter  manly  accomplishments  the  ladies  of 
this  age  are  beginning  to  incline  more  and  more  seriously  as 
the  preachers  of  "  muscular  Christianity"  increase  in  nuru- 
^rs  and  reputation. 

I  have  said  enough  of  this  "  pet  of  the  petticoats "  to 
demonstrate  beyond  the  possibility  of  cavil,  the  fact  that  he 
was  an  eminently  eligible  parti.  Everybody  predicted 
that  he  would  make  an  astonishingly  brilliant  match.  The 
girls  admitted  reluctantly  that  he  had  a  right  to  aim  at  the 
"  brightest  particular  "  of  their  shining  ranks,  while  the  most 
envious  of  their  escorts  "  supposed  that  as  society  was  now 
constituted,  a  fellow  like  Bentley  had  only  to  signify  where 
his  choice  had  fallen,  to  marry  whomsoever  he  pleased." 
Therefore,  when  the  report  took  wind  and  was  speedily 
bruited  abroad,  that  he  was  paying  attention  (that  is  the  tech- 
nical phrase,  and  a  very  stupid  one  it  is,  according  to  my  ideas) 
to  Kate  Morgan,  who  was  certainly  no  beauty,  and  hardly  a 
belle,  in  any  sense  of  the  term,  pretty  heads,  not  a  few, 
were  tossed  high  in  indignant  aspersion  of  the  depraved  taste 
of  their  Adonis,  while  gossips  of  the  masculine  gender 
opened  incredulous  eyes  and  chuckled  in  malicious  glee  over 
this  evidence  of  the  favorite's  fallibility.  I  have  intimated 
that  Kate  had,  in  the  judgment  of  some,  certain  rather 
equivocal  pretensions  to  belleship.  Nobody —  even  the  most 
fastidious  critics  of  womanly  beauty  —  even  called  her  ordi- 
nary-looking or  absolutely  uninteresting.  "  She  was  a  pecu. 
iar  girl,"  said  her  young  lady  friends,  "with  somewhat 
strong  notions  upon  some  subjects,  but  her  principles  were 
excellent."  Commendation  artfully  designed  to  terrify  any 
weak-minded  youth  from  approaching  her,  and  to  put  upon 
Iheir  guard  the  large  proportion  of  ladies'  men  who  dislike 
women  of  decided  character.  She  had  her  defenders.  Those 
who  were  honored  by  her  friendship  raved  about  her  Intel- 


250 


lectual  attainments ;  her  fascination  of  manner  and  speech ; 
her  lofty  soul ;  her  nobility  and  independence  of  spirit  and 
thought ;.  her  eminent  virtues  as  daughter,  sister,  and  friend. 
One  talent  all  agreed  in  attributing  to  her.  She  was  a 
splendid  musician — a  skilful  instrumental  performer  and  an 
exquisite  vocalist.  Sydney  Bentley  was  originally  drawn 
within  the  magic  circle  of  her  influence  by  her  wonderful 
voice,  and,  his  fancy  once  caught,  he  shortly  became  the 
most  obsequious  of  her  slaves. 

"It  is  sheer  infatuation  !"  sighed  his  eldest  sister,  who  had 
her  reasons  for  disliking  the  match.  "  I  have  reasoned  with 
him,  dozens  of  times,  about  his  outrageous  folly,  but  one 
might  as  well  argue  with  Vesuvius  in  mid-eruption." 

In  truth,  all  that  was  best  and  most  earnest  in  the  nature 
of  the  spoiled  favorite  of  fortune  was  brought  into  sight  and 
action  by  this  one  great  passion  of  his  life.  It  spoke  vol- 
umes'in  favor  of  the  original  material  composing  his  heart, 
that  self-conceit  had  not  injured  it  to  the  extent  of  disquali- 
fying it  for  a  genuine  and  hearty  devotion  to  another.  He 
openly  avowed  and  honestly  believed  that  the  lady  of  his 
love  was  his  superior,  mentally  and  morally ;  did  homage, 
cordial  and  free,  to  her  character  and  charms,  —  a  tribute  of 
which  any  woman  might  justly  have  been  proud. 

It  touched  Kate  Morgan  as  naught  else  of  appreciation 
and  attachment  had  ever  done.  At  first,  it  may  be  that  she 
was  not  insensible  to  the  distinction  conferred  upon  her  by 
the  marked  preference  evinced  by  the  reigning  idol  of  soci- 
ety, for  her  presence  and  companionship  above  that  of  the 
beauties  and  heiresses  who  strove,  more  or  less  openly,  to 
attract  his  notice.  She  would  not  have  been  woman  had 
not  this  natural  thrill  of  vanity  penetrated  her  heart  and 
disposed  her  to  partial  judgment  of  her  new  wooer.  If  she 
chose  to  attribute  the  dawning  prepossession  to  the  love  for 
•esthetics  which  found  food  for  delight  in  the  contemplation 


"FOE   BETTER,   FOR   WORSE."  251 

of  tliis  physically  model  man,  she  was  not  the  first  one  of 
her  sex  and  kind  who  has  preferred  to  deceive  herself  in  the 
like  case.  As  their  acquaintanceship  ripened  into  intimacy, 
and  she  became  conscious  of  what  were  his  real  sentiments 
respecting  -herself,  the  feminine  weakness  was  displaced  by 
love,  the  intensity  of  which  fairly  terrified  her.  She  was 
noted  among  her  associates  for  her  critical  discrimination  of 
character  and  motives ;  was  famed,  and,  by  some,  feared  for 
her  unerring  perception  of  the  vices  and  foibles  that  make 
poor  mortal  nature  a  revolting  study  to  people  of  squeam- 
ish stomachs,  or  who  like  to  take  the  world  —  including  the 
inhabitants  thereof — comfortably.  But,  now^  she  applied 
no  tests.  The  most  romantic  of  impulsive  school-girls  never 
received  an  ideal  more  absolutely  upon  trust  than  did  she 
her  real  flesh-and-blood  hero.  A  hero  he  was,  in  her  esti- 
mation -^  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was  lovely,  grand,  gra- 
cious, and  brave  in  romance  and  poetry. 

Their  courtship  was  rapid.  It  could  not  have  been  pro- 
tracted in  the  circumstances  of  mutual  attraction  I  have 
enumerated.  The  engagement  was  not  longer  than  was 
positively  neccessary  for  the  preparation  of  the  trousseau, 
and  Sydney's  impatience  at  this  delay  was  flattering  to 
his  bride  as  it  was  diverting  to  his  friends.  After  the 
wedding  —  a  quiet,  family  affair,  according  to  Kate's  desire 
—  they  set  off  upon  a  three  weeks'  tour  of  the  Lakes  and 
the  White  Mountains,  settling  down,  in  the  fourth,  for  rest 
and  the  further  enjoyment  of  each  other's  society  at  Hawks- 
nest,  the  handsome  country-seat  of  Mr.  Bentley,  Sen. 

Their  ostensible  reason  for  scaling  the  almost  perpendicu- 
lar face  of  the  rock  where  our  story  finds  them,  was  to  gain 
a  good  view  of  the  sunset  on  the  range  of  mountains  that 
shut  in  Hawksnest  and  the  small  valley  surrounding  it  like 
the  walls  of  an  amphitheatre.  Both  had  a  true,  warm  love 
for  Nature  in  all  her  moods,  and  a  lively  appreciation  of 


252 


attractive  phases  of  these  which  would  have  escaped  eyes 
less  sensitive  to  such  influences,  and  less  finely  trained  to 
note  and  examine  them.  But  when  Kate  called  her  hus- 
band's attention  to  the  broadening  splendor  of  the  West,  she 
had  but  a  slight  response.  He  did  not  so  much  as  lift  his 
bead  from  his  resting-place,  and,  looking  laughingly  down  to 
chide  his  indifference  to  the  scene,  she  discovered  that  his 
gaze  was  riveted  upon  her,  instead  of  upon  the  distant, 
hills. 

"What  are  you  dreaming  about?"  she  asked. 

"I  am  not  dreaming.  I  seem  just  to  have  awakened  to 
the  knowledge  that  I  have  married  the  most  glorious-look- 
ing woman  in  the  country." 

Kate  blushed  deeply,  and  put  her  hand  over  his  eyes. 
"  Nonsense !  I  can  say  to  you  as  did  my  shrewish  name- 
sake to  old  Vincentio,  after  addressing  him  as  a  blooming 
maiden.  It  is 

"  '  your  mistaking  eyes 
That  have  been  so  bedazzled  with  the  rain 
That  everything  you  look  on  seemeth  green.' " 

He  let  the  hand  lie  where  she  had  placed  it. 

"You  cannot  shut  out  the  picture  from  my  inner  optics. 
It  is  painted  there  indelibly.  Do  you  know,  you  sorceress, 
that  it  is  a  sin  for  any  human  creature  to  worship  another 
as  I  do  you  ?  " 

The  wife  withdrew  the  covering  from  his  eyes,  and  gazed 
down  into  them  with  intentness  that  was  almost  sad.  She 
was  actually  beautiful  at  that  instant.  The  cheek,  usually 
pale,  was  dyed  with  warm  rose-color;  the  sweeping  fringes 
of  her  gray  eyes  darkened  them  to  blackness,  and  her  mouth 
quivered  with  a  smile  the  touch  of  pensive  thought  but 
made  more  sweet.  She  had  a  noble,  intellectual  head,  and 
the  lowly  bend  of  this  added  intensity,  not  easily  expressed 


"FOE  BETTER,   FOE  WOESE."  253 

by  words,  to  the  devotion  that  shone  through  her  face,  as 
the  sunlight  through  a  porcelain  picture,  bringing  grace  and 
loveliness  out  of  what  was,  a  moment  before,  a  blank 
surface. 

"  It  humbles  me  to  hear  you  use  such  language,  Sydney ! 
Humbles  and  frightens  me !  I  dread  the  moment  of  your 
real  awakening,  when  you  shall  find  of  what  common  stuff 
your  idol  is  composed.  Yet  I  enjoy  the  illusion  while  it 
lasts.  The  happiness  of  one  such  moment  as  this  outweighs, 
in  my  mind,  all  the  grief,  pain,  and  disappointment  I  have 
endured  in  the  whole  of  my  previous  life." 

"Yet  you  would  cloud  this  by  fears  of  an  event  that  is 
never  to  come  to  pass! "  answered  Sydney,  in  tender  rebuke. 
"This  is  no  wild  love-dream,  remember,  dearest!  My  pride 
in  and  afiection  for  you,  are  founded  upon  the  sure  basis  of 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  your  nature ;  the  matchless  treas- 
ures of  your  mind  and  heart.  I  have  seen  enough  of  other 
women  to  know  how  far  you  transcend  them  all  in  whatever 
makes  womanhood  adorable ;  but "  —  with  an  impatient, 
and  slightly  ludicrous  change  of  tone — "as  I  have  often 
had  occasion  to  remark  before,  in  connection  with  this  sub- 
ject, where  is  the  sense  of  trying  to  express  myself  upon  it  ? 
You  are  unique,  my  Koh-i-noor !  If  there  are  blemishes  in 
my  diamond,  I  shall  never  descry  them.  My  respect 
increases  in  exact  proportion  with  my  love,  until  the  former 
now  amounts  to  reverence,  the  latter — again  to  repeat 
myself  —  to  worship."  He  drew  her  lips  down  to  his,  then 
settled  his  head  once  more  into  the  position  that  suited  him 
so  well. 

Kate  spoke,  musingly,  after  a  brief  pause,  —        « 

"  Must  not  affection  and  esteem  grow  together,  if  affection 
grows  at  all  ?  I  could  never  love  where  I  did  not  respect." 

She  met  her  husband's  rejoinder,  —  that  given  in  the  second 
sentence  of  this  chapter  —  with  playful  petulance. 
89 


254  "FOE  BETTER,  FOB  WORSE." 

"How  absurd!  Why  not  speculate  as  to  your  fate,  if 
you  were  transformed  into  Bluebeard  or  Caliban?  " 

Sydney  was  the  serious  one,  now.  "  No :  my  natural 
amiability,  and  my  gentlemanly  breeding,  will  prevent  me 
from  becoming  a  cruel  or  odious  monster  in  your  sight. 
But  I  have  weaknesses,  dear,  which  you  must  detect  sooner 
or  later,  try  to  hide  them  as  I  may  and  as  I  shall  do.  I 
dread  the  clear  glance  of  your  eye  lighting  upon  one  of 
these,  more  than  I  would  the  frowning  inspection  of  a 
thousand  others.  Don't  try  to  stop  me  !  I  am  not  seized 
with  a  fit  of  ultra  humility,  nor  am  I  not  talking  for  the 
pleasure  of  being  contradicted.  This  is  a  candid  turn  — 
that  is  all  I  do  not  apprehend  that  you  will  ever  think 
me  really  base  and  wicked  —  only  that  you  may  come  in 
time  to  despise  me  for  failings  foreign  to  your  upright  na- 
ture. There  may  be  iron  —  gold,  if  you  will  have  it  so  — 
at  any  rate  good  metal  of  some  description,  in  my  composi- 
tion, but  it  is  sadly  mixed  with  clay.  Eecollect,  darling, 
when  you  discover  what  a  fallible  child  of  earth  your  hus- 
band is,  that  I  had  the  honesty  to  warn  you  of  this,  and 
believe,  through  all  the  misgivings  that  may  beset  you,  as 
to  the  wisdom  of  the  act  that  gave  your  happiness  into  my 
keeping,  that  I  am  strong  in  one  thing, —  my  love  for  you, 
and  my  faith  in  your  nobility  and  goodness.  I  may  fail  in 
my  attempt  to  emulate  these,  but  I  can  perceive  their 
exceeding  beauty." 

Kate's  eyes  were  dark  with  tears,  and  her  voice  shook  as 
she  entered  a  passionate  protest  against  his  cruel  judgment 
of  himself.  "  A  highwayman,  or  a  parricide,  could  not  paint 
lis  own  portrait  in  more  dismal  and  frightful  colors  !  "  she 
concluded,  poutingly.  "  Are  you  meditating  sacrilege,  or  a 
bank  robbery  ?  If  I  believed  one-half  of  what  you  have 
said,  I  should  be  afraid  to  stay  here  alone  with  you." 

'*  I  have  not  planned   either  of  the  crimes  you  name.'* 


"FOR  BETTER,   FOR  WORSE."  255 

The  suimy  humor,  habitual  to  Sydney,  dispelled  the  melan- 
choly that  had  tinged  his,  to  her,  enigmatical  speech.  "  But 
for  the  fear  of  having  my  ears  soundly  boxed,  I  might  ven- 
ture upon  the  assertion  that  I  had  already  committed  both 
by  stealing  into  the  temple  of  your  affections  and  possessing 
myself  of  your  most -precious  treasures.  Look  at  the  sky 
beyond  Round  Top  !  Did  you  ever  see  a  more  delicious  bit 
of  ultramarine  ?  And  the  crimson  and  gold  of  the  eastern 
clouds  vie  with  these  of  the  west  in  glory."  The  moun- 
tains were  wrapped  in  purple  shadows,  that  would  soon  be 
black,  and  a  thin  mist  was  stealing  up  to  their  observatory, 
from  the  river,  when  they  descended  reluctantly  from  their 
rock,  and  chose  the  shortest  path  homeward. 

"  It  will  be  moonlight,  in  the  course  of  an  hour,"  said 
Sydney,  on  the  way.  "  But,  if  there  were  no  risk  of  your 
taking  cold,  it  wpuld  be  advisable  for  us  to  go  home.  I  am 
apt  to  forget  that  while  we  are  in  the  country  we  conform 
to  the  primitive  habits  of  the  region  in  our  meal-times. 
Eliza  is  a  great  stickler  for  punctuality.  I  do  not  believe 
that  she  was  ever  a  minute  behind  time  in  her  life,  upon 
any  occasion,  great  or  small." 

"  If  we  except  her  delay  in  choosing  a  partner  for  life," 
returned  Kate,  lightly,  turning  her  smiling  face  towards 
him. 

The  jest  was  not  received  as  merrily  as  it  was  made. 
Kate  noticed  this  instantly,  and  felt  the  lack  of  sympathy 
in  the  spirit  of  her  remark,  in  spite  of  Sydney's  attempt  to 
laugh.  He  changed  the  subject  by  pulling  her  shawl  higher 
upon  her  shoulders,  and  inquiring  if  she  felt  quite  warm. 

"  The  mountain  air  grows  cold  as  soon  as  the  sunlight  is 
withdrawn, "  he  said.  "  I  must  bring  an  extra  shawl 
along  for  you,  on  our  next  ramble." 

"  I  am  veiy  comfortable,  thank  you,"  said  Kate,  in  a 
tone  that  discouraged  further  conversation. 


256  "FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

The  more  she  thought  upon  his  forced  laugh  and  failure 
to  answer  her  in  words,  the  more  uncomfortable  she  became. 
The  unpleasant  sensation  was  heightened  by  the  conscious- 
ness that  there  had  been  a  suspicion  of  spitefulness  in  her 
reflection  upon  the  spinsterhood  of  her  sister-in-law.  For 
she  had  not  been  under  the  same  roof  with  her  a  dozen 
hours,  before  she  made  up  her  mind  that  there  was  a  strong 
likelihood  that  their  intercourse  would  result  in  reciprocal 
dislike.  This  persuasion  she  had  studiously  concealed 
from  her  husband,  and  the  idea  that  he  had  caught  a  glim- 
mer of  the  truth  from  her  unguarded  remark  was  mortify- 
ing. Else,  why  should  he  tacitly  decline  the  discussion 
of  his  sister's  old-maidism  ? 

Stepping  over  the  stones  and  gnarled  roots  of  the  forest- 
path,  and  seeming  to  listen  to  his  pleasant  talk  upon  various 
topics,  a  thought  struck,  like  a  bodkin-thrust,  at  her  heart. 
Was  Eliza,  as  his  sister,  and  a  blood  member  of  the  Bentley 
family,  to  be  held  sacred  from  slighting,  or  jesting  comments 
even  from  her  —  his  wife?  Was  the  tie  of  consanguinity 
one  that  would  not  brook  the  touch  of  an  alien's  hand  — • 
alien  by  birth  and  lineage,  although  he  had  sworn,  before 
Heaven  and  men,  that  she  was  henceforward  to  be  the  near- 
est and  dearest  of  all  earthly  relations  ?  Another  suspicion 
stabbed  her  ere  she  caught  her  breath  from  the  pain  of  the 
first.  She  had  imagined,  long  ago,  that  her  marriage  had 
been  a  most  distastful  one  to  Eliza.  That  energetic  lady 
managed  everything  else  pertaining  to  the  Bentley  interest, 
and  was  manifestly  chagrined  that  the  negotiation  of  the 
alliance  of  her  only  brother  with  some  highly-favored  daugh- 
ter of  Eve  had  not  been  intrusted  to  her  diplomatic  and 
executive  abilities.  Perhaps  Sydney  was  fully  aware  of  this, 
and  avoided  all  conversation  that  might  lead  to  her  discov 
ery  of  a  circumstance  that  could  not  but  pain  and  embarrass 
her. 


"FOE  BETTER,   FOE  WOESE."       .  257 

He  broke  the  chain  of  thought  when  she  had  reached  this 
point. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  weary,  my  pet !  Am  I  walk- 
ing too  fast  for  you  ?  " 

«  Not  at  all ! " 

"  What  makes  you  so  quiet  ? "  he  continued,  bending  to 
look  into  her  face. 

"I  am  never  talkative  at  twilight,"- she  replied,  arousing 
herself. 

"  Are  you  not  quite  happy  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am  !  "  cried  Kate,  laughing  more  than  was 
altogether  natural.  "  Of  course  I  am !  Very  happy ! 
Why  shouldn't  I  be  ?  " 

"I  fancied  that  you  spoke  sadly — that  was  all!  I  beg 
your  pardon." 

He  had  certainly  a  sweet  temper,  and  his  confidence  in 
his  wife's  word  was  absolute.  It  was  unreasonable  and  un- 
kind to  allow  a  trifle  so  light  to  discompose  her ;  but  her 
spirit  was  still  slightly,  though  not  visibly  ruffled  when  they 
reached  the  house.  As  fate  would  have  it,  Eliza  was  stand- 
ing upon  the  piazza  watching  for  them. 

Those  who  have  read  Thackeray's  "  Newcomes  "  can  never 
forget  his  mention  of  Lady  Kew's  little  black  dog,  and  the 
subsequent  dissertation  upon  other  curs  of  the  same  com- 
plexion that  infest  nearly  every  family  in  the  civilized  world. 
Eliza  was  the  proprietor  of  this  interesting  quadruped  in  the 
Bentley  household,  and,  according  to  the  custom  of  other 
households,  more  and  less  amiable,  every  member  of  it  was 
in  competition  with  the  rest  in  the  laudable  task  of  humor- 
ing the  vile  cur,  tossing  it  propitiatory  tidbits  in  season  and 
out  of  season ;  feeding  it  with  superfine  dainties  whenever 
it  menaced  an  assault,  and  redoubling  their  assiduities  di 
rectly  after  it  had  made  the  round  of  the  establishment,  snarl- 


258  "  FOE   BETTER,   FOE  WOESE." 

ing,  and  worrying,  and  biting  like  any  other  mad  tiling  thai 
deserved  a  short  shrift  and  a  long  cord. 

"  Don't  irritate  Eliza ! "  «  Eliza  would  not  like  that !  " 
tl  Eliza  says  this  must  be  done,"  were  unanswerable  dissua- 
sives  or  inducements  in  the  mouths  and  ears  of  every  one, 
from  the  father  down  to  the  least  grandchild.  Those  who  had 
grown  up  under  this  regime  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  a 
condition  of  their  existence,  which  they  accepted  with  vary- 
ing degrees  of  patience — generally  good-naturedly,  being,  in 
the  main,  peaceable  and  kindly  tempered ;  but  the  invariable 
policy  of -conciliation  struck  novices  and  lookers-on  as  con- 
temptible in  itself,  and  unjust  to  the  rest  of  the  family. 
Kate's  sense  of  right  and  propriety  was  offended  by  it,  from 
the  day  of  her  arrival  at  the  country  house,  and  hardly  an 
hour  had  elapsed  since,  in  which  she  had  not  fresh  occasion 
for  wonder  and  indignation  at  the  one-sided  state  of  domes- 
tic government.  She  had  held  her  peace,  however ;  with- 
held from  verbal  or  looked  disapproval  by  the  thought  of 
the  newness  of  her  introduction  to  the  home-circle,  and  the 
fear  of  offending  others  with  the  irascible  maiden,  with 
whom,  to  be  candid,  she  would  have  relished  a  rousing  tilt, 
that  would  grant  her  the  opportunity  of  giving  the  virago  a 
wholesome  supply  of  plain  truths,  pungently  delivered. 

"Well!"  said  the  watcher,  as  the  absentees  walked  up 
the  steps,  "  I  began  to  think  that  we  should  have  to  ring 
the  alarm  bell,  or  send  out  a  man  with  a  lantern-,  to  look 
after  you.  You  have  been  married  about  long  enough,  I 
should  think,  to  bear  in  mind  that  seven  o'clock  is  our  tea 
hour." 

Kate  felt  the  blood  warm  her  cheeks  unpleasantly,  but 
she  naturally  left  the  task  of  replying  to  her  husband. 

He  laughed  good-naturedly.  "  We  have  had  what  the 
theologians  call  '  an  abiding  sense'  of  that  fact  for  the  past 
But  we  lost  our  way  coming  home,  and  made 


"FOE  BETTER,   FOR  WORSE."  259 

an  unpiemeditated  d'etowr  of,  I  suppose,  a  mile  and  a  half. 
You  must  overlook  our  tardiness  for  this  once.  It  is  a 
mercy  that  we  did  not  need  the  man  and  the  lantern,  in 
dead  earnest." 

Kate  glanced  up  quickly,  her  lips  forming  into  a  smile  at 
this  outrageous  fabrication.  Sydney's  face  was  as  grave  as 
a  judge's. 

"  You  had  better  keep  your  eyes  open  the  next  time  you 
turn  pathfinders,"  said  Eliza,  only  partially  appeased. 
"  Supper  has  been  waiting  for  you  this  half-hour." 

Kate  escaped  to  her  chamber  to  lay  aside  her  walking- 
dress,  whither  Sydney  followed  her  almost  immediately. 

"  What  an  adept  you  must  be  in  hoaxing !  You  carried 
the  last  one  through  with  admirable  gravity.  I  was  tempted 
to  believe  you,  myself,"  she  said,  finding  that  he  did  not  re- 
fer to  it  of  his  own  accord. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"  I  alluded  to  the  romance  of  the  '  Lost  Pedestrians.'  " 

"  Oh,  my  fib  to  Eliza !  I  have  served  a  long  apprentice- 
ship at  the  trade.  I  flatter  myself  there  are  not  many  men 
who  can  lie  themselves  out  of  a  scrape  with  a  more  honest 
face  than  I  can." 

Kate's  hand  fell  from  the  collar  she  was  pinning  about 
her  throat.  "  Lie  out !  O  Sydney  !  " 

"  White  lies,  I  mean,  child  !  necessary  equivocations,  par- 
donable deceptions,  agreeable  exaggerations,  and  the  like. 
How  shocked  you  look !  It  is  what  everybody  does,  only 
some  bungle  so  atrociously  in  the  attempt  as  to  spoil  every- 
thing. Who  tells  the  truth  at  all  times  and  in  all  places  '?  " 

"  I  do  !"  was  upon  Kate's  tongue.  It  was  arrested  by 
the  recollection  that  the  self-vindication  would  imply  cen- 
sure of  her  liege  lord,  "  and  make  too  serious  a  matter  of  a 
jest,"  she  continued,  to  herself.  "  But  I  wish  he  would  un- 
deceive Eliza  without  delay !  She  certainly  believes  him 


260  "FOB  BETTER,  FOE  WOKSE." 

to  be  in  earnest,  and  has,  no  doubt,  repeated  the  silly  fiction 
to  the  whole  family  by  this  time.  I  do  hate  to  be  made  the 
subject  of  general  ridicule,  even  for  a  little  while." 

Her  surmise  was  correct.  Old  Mr.  Bentley  was  especially 
facetious  upon  the  misadventure,  advising  his  son  to  take  a 
hatchet  along  when  he  again  committed  himself  and  nis 
spouse  to  the  labyrinthine  windings  of  the  forest,  and  "  blaze" 
the  trees,  as  he  went,  after  the  manner  of  pioneer  back 
woodsmen,  or  to  fill  his  pockets  with  pebbles  and  drop  one, 
every  few  rods,  as  did  Hop-o'-my-Thumb  on  his  road  to  the 
castle  of  the  ogre.  Incident  of  any  kind  was  so  rare  in  the 
level  life  they  were  leading  in  their  country  quarters,  that  this 
trifling  event  was  hailed  as  a  godsend  of  fun.  Sydney  bore 
the  banter  merrily ;  but  Kate,  who,  according  to  her  own 
confession,  had  a  great  dislike  to  unseemly  raillery,  fretted 
secretly  under  the  allusions,  covert  and  open,  to  the  love- 
lorn condition  of  the  grown-up  Babes  in  the  Wood,  as  Eliza 
styled  them,  which  had  prevented  them  from  knowing  the 
points  of  the  compass,  or  seeing  landmarks  like  Round  Top 
and  Steeple  Mountain,  which  were  visible  for  a  hundred 
miles  on  every  side.  She  would  not  feign  amusement  at 
what  appeared  to  divert  Sydney  immensely,  and  Eliza,  ob- 
serving this,  directed  the  full  tide  of  her  ridicule  in  her 
direction,  when  her  father-in-law  inquired  into  the  cause  of 
her  very  sober  demeanor. 

"  She  is  thinking  what  a  beautiful  pair  of  corpses  Robin 
Redbreast  would  have  covered  painfully  with  leaves  by  this 
time  to-morrow  evening,  if  kind  fortune  had  not  guided 
them  out  of  the  heart  of  the  trackless  wilderness,"  said  the 
Agreeable  sister.  "  You  should  have  seen  her  face  when  she 
came  in !  She  looked  as  if  she  had  been  crying  for  a  week, 
and  two  monstrous  tears  were  still  'rolling  adown  he* 
lovely  nose.' " 

"  Eliza  1  "  ejaculated  Kate,  in  infinite  disgust. 


"FOE  BETTER,   FOR  WORSE."  261 

A  burst  of  laughter  at  her  earnestness  of  deprecation 
drowned  whatever  she  would  have  said.  The  Bentleys 
always  laughed  tremendously,  upon  principle,  whenever 
Eliza  essayed  a  witticism,  however  lame  or  flat  it  might  be, 
and  her  jeux  cCesprits  were  invariably  either  clumsy  or 
fatuous. 

"  I  appeal  to  Sydney  whether  you  had  not  been  dissolved 
in  grief,  all  the  while  you  were  wandering  affrighted  through 
that  ten-acre  grove,"  said  the  spinster,  boldly.  "  Indeed,  he 
confessed  as  much  to  me  after  you  had  run  up-stairs  to 
bathe  your  eyes  in  rose-water.  Didn't  you,  Sydney  ?  " 

"  If  I  did,  it  was  in  confidence,  and  you  had  no  right  to 
make  the  confession  public,"  replied  he,  still  laughing,  at 
what  Kate  could  not  see.  The  whole  episode  was  foolish 
and  witless  beyond  expression  to  her  refined  notions.  Syd- 
ney marked  her  downcast  looks.  "  Never  mind,  Katie !  " 
he  said,  affectionately,  but  still  carrying  on  the  jest.  "  Don't 
look  so  reproachfully  at  me.  I'll  never  tell  tales  out  of 
school  again.  I  had  no  idea  you  would  take  it  so  much  to 
heart." 

This  was  said  as  they  arose  from  the  table,  and  he  passed 
his  arm  about  his  wife's  waist  as  he  spoke.  She  would  have 
eluded  the  embrace  had  not  the  regards  of  the  rest  bee* 
upon  them,  and  her  good  sense  told  her  that  any  display  of 
pettishness  would  be  the  prelude  to  a  fresh  volley  of  teasing. 

They  walked  thus  to  the  door  on  their  way  to  the  piazza, 
when  Eliza  called  after  them,  mockingly,  — 

"  That's  right,  Syd !  make  your  peace  with  her  if  you 
can !  A  terrific  curtain  lecture  is  in  reserve  for  you,  and 
you  will  do  well  to  have  it  over  as  soon  as  possible.  I  would 
not  be  in  your  place  for  a  fortune.  I  have  a  suspicion  that 
your  better  half  is  peculiarly  gifted  in  that  line." 

Again  Sydney's  sole  rejoinder  was  a  laugh,  that  sounded 
like  a  puerile  cackle  to  Kate's  excited  senses ;  for  excited 


262  "FOE  BETPEE,  FOE  WOESE." 

she  was, —  childish  as  she  would  have  been  ready  to  call 
such  emotion  in  another, —  angry  beyond  anything  that  Syd- 
ney could  have  conceived  possible,  regarding  the  whole 
scene  from  his  different  stand-point.  She  freed  herself  from 
his  hold  by  a  movement  that  was  decided  without  being 
rude,  and,  instead  of  repairing  with  the  others  to  the  piazza, 
which  was  the  summer  smoking-room  of  the  gentlemen,  and 
the  resort  of  the  ladies  on  warm  evenings,  she  turned  up 
the  staircase  leading  to  her  room. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  little  one  ?  "  called  Sydney  from 
the  foot  of  the  steps. 

"  I  shall  be  back  directly !  "  she  replied ;  and  when  out  of 
his  sight  at  the  turning  of  the  hall  above,  she  flew  along  the 
passage  as  if  pursued  by  a  pack  of  furies.  She  locked 
her  door  and  fell  into  her  seat  flushed  and  panting.  She 
had  been  insulted !  held  up  to  general  derision ;  made 
the  laughing-stock  of  one  who  was  inferior  to  her  in  every 
respect ;  whom  she  disliked  and  despised,  and  her  husband, 
—  he  whom  she  had  named  her  hero  and  her  master,  had  not 
defended  her  !  nay,  more,  he  had  actually  joined  in  the  coarse 
nonsensical  banter !  And  all  through  fear  of  offending 
that  detestable  shrew,  Eliza.  Rather  than  anger  her,  he 
would  sit  calmly  by  and  see  his  wife  openly  assailed,  vilely 
persecuted.  Here  she  found  that  she  was  crying  fast  and 
hard  with  vexation,  —  with  wounded  feeling,  she  thought. 

In  blissful  ignorance  of  the  tempest  he  had  aided  his 
sister  to  raise,  Sydney  smoked  his  cigar  below,  in  abounding 
peace  and  quietness ;  his  shapely  boots  crossed  upon  a  foot- 
rest,  his  then  betrothed  had  embroidered  as  a  birthday  gift 
for  him  three  months  before,  and  discussed  the  affairs  of  the 
nation  and  "  our  foreign  relations  "  with  his  father,  and  the 
exceeding  beauty  of  the  night  with  his  mother  and  sisters. 
True,  Kate  was  wanting  from  the  family  circle,  but  he  was 
not  afflicted  by  an  absence  that  must  be  of  so  short  duration. 


263 


He  never  borrowed  trouble  —  this  youthful  Sybarite,  to 
whom  life  had,  thus  far,  been  a  cloudless  morning.  How 
was  he  to  divine  what  salt  showers  were  falling  in  that 
locked  chamber  overhead  ?  As  the  red,  swollen  rim  of  the 
moon  appeared  above  the  pine-tops,  Anna,  the  youngest  sis- 
ter, a  somewhat  romantic  girl  of  eighteen,  began  to  warble 
Schubert's  "  Serenade."  Sydney  loved  music  next  to  hia 
wife,  and  removing  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  he  fell  into  a 
sonorous,  yet  mellow  bass,  that  set  the  echoes  of  the  nearer 
hill-tops  to  vibrating. 

Kate  dried  her  tears  when  she  heard  that.  "  He  is  insen- 
sible as  stone  !  "  she  said,  contemptuously.  Until  then,  she 
had  intended  to  remain  within  her  barred  door  until  he  came 
to  f,eek  her,  and  to  sue  for  forgiveness.  Now,  she  determined 
not  to  give  him  this  advantage  of  a  private  settlement  of 
tho  quarrel.  She  smoothed  her  hair,  bathed  her  eyes  with 
ice-water  until  the  lids  were  nearly  bloodless,  and  descended 
to  take  her  accustomed  place  in  the  evening  group  upon  the 
porch,  with  the  haughty  nonchalance  of  a  young  princess. 

"  Here  is  a  seat !  "  said  Sydney,  offering  a  chair  next 
to  his. 

She  accepted  it  with  thanks.  To  decline  it  would  have 
elicited  a  tender  inquiry  from  him  and  a  sarcastic  one  from 
Eliza.  You  see,  she  was  beginning  to  fear  the  famous  little 
black  dog,  too.  But  when  he  laid  his  hand  in  her  lap,  she 
did  not  close  her  fingers  iipon  it  as  usual,  whereat  he  txirned 
to  her  with  a  look  of  surprise.  He  might  as  well  have  ad- 
dressed the  mute  appeal  to  theSphynx,  —  "staring  right  on, 
with  calm,  eternal  eyes." 

"  I  heard  yc  u  singing,"  she  was  saying,  kindly  and  pleas- 
antly to  Anna.  "  It  sounded  delightfully  up-stairs.  What 
was  that  little  ballad  you  were  humming  in  my  room,  this 
morning,  while  you  were  sketching  the  view  from  my  win- 
dow? 'Lady  mine!'  were  all  the  words  I  caught." 


264 


«  That  is  as  old  as  the  hills,"  said  Eliza. 

"  But  very  sweet  and  pretty,  to  my  taste,"  returned  Kate, 
quietly  negligent  of  the  objection.  "Sing  it,  dear;  will 
you  not  ?  "  to  the  younger  sister 

Anna  was  pleased  that  her  vocal  efforts  had  won  the  appro- 
bation of  so  competent  a  judge,  and  at  once  launched  her 
fresh  young  vioce  upon  the  rippling  stream  of  melody  Kate 
had  designated. 

"  That  lover  deserved  nothing  less  than  the  loss  of  her  he 
insulted  by  his  doubts !  "  exclaimed  Sydney,  when  the  last 
lines  had  been  sung.  "What  woman  of  sense  and  spirit 
would  endure  the  reflections  upon  her  constancy  set  forth  in 
every  verse  ?  They  make  his  loving  repetition  of  '  Lady 
mine  '  an  unmanly  sneer.  Listen !  — 

" '  Thou  art  pore  as  mountain  snows, 

Lady  mine!    . 

Ere  the  sun  upon  them  glows, 

Lady  mine  I 

But  the  noontide  hath  its  ray, 

And  the  snow  flakes  melt  away, 

And  hearts — why  may  not  thine, 

Lady  mine?' 

Love  without  faith  is  not  worth  a  rush !  " 

"  Hearts  do  change,  however,"  answered  Kate,  senten- 
tiously. 

"  Not  when  they  have  been  really  won.  Once  gained, 
they  are  gained  forever ! "  persisted  the  lover  bride- 
groom. 

"  You  liked  the  words  well  enough  when  Eita  Lambert 
sang  them !  "  said  the  inevitable  Eliza.  "  There  are  some 
dozens  of  songs,  all  love-sick,  that  never  fail  to  remind  me 
of  the  tedious  sittings  and  endless  promenades  you  and  she 
used  to  have  out  here,  last  summer,  before  she  administered 
the  rebuff  that  sent  you  flying  off  by  daybreak  one  August 
morning,  to  Saratoga,  to  find  healing  for  your  stricken  spirit. 


"FOE  BETTER,   FOB  WORSE."  265 

irou  never  knew,  I  suspect,  Kate,  that  you  caught  his  heart 
in  the  rebound  ?  " 

"  I  knew  qxiite  as  much  about  it  as  did  anybody  else,"  re- 
joined Kate,  apparently  uninjured  by  the  sudden  missile. 

The  little  black  dog  was  rampant  forthwith. 

"  Deluded  soul !  "  with  a  disdainful  sniff.  "  But  as  Syd 
gays  about  the  crying  scene  in  the  woods,  I  wont  tell  tales 
out  of  school.  I  don't  mind  cautioning  you  on  one  point, 
though.  Rita  is  coming  to  us  next  week.  You  had  better 
keep  a  close  watch  upon  your  husband  while  she  is  here." 

"  I  will  trust  him  !  "  said  the  wife,  involuntarily. 

Sydney's  hand  clasped  hers  tightly  and  warmly,  a  token 
of  gratitude  that  changed  bitterness  into  sweetness  before 
his  whispered  "  Thank  you,  my  darling  !  "  reached  her  ear. 
He  spoiled  it  all,  the  next  moment,  by  saying,  in  the  delib- 
erate tone  of  one  who  is  considering  a  very  dubious  question, 
"  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  safe  for  you  to  place  too  much 
reliance  in  my  fidelity  under  the  circumstances  Eliza  men- 
tions. I  am  but  human." 

There  is  but  little  in  the  last  sentence  as  it  meets  the  eye, 
but  he  contrived  to  throw  into  it  a  mournful  significance 
that  excited  the  mirth  of  all  his  auditors  with  one  excep- 
tion. Kate  was  sensitive  and  straightfoward,  besides  being 
madly  in  love  with  her  handsome  husband,  and  she  could  not 
understand  the  motive  that  beguiled  him  into  jesting  upon 
a  topic  so  delicate  as  his  constancy  to  her,  or  —  what 
amounted  to  the  same  thing  —  her  ability  to  retain  the  love 
she  had  won.  Besides  being  foolish  and  in  bad  taste,  such 
sentiments  were  utterly  inconsistent  with  those  he  had 
expressed,  not  three  minutes  ago,  —  "  Once  gained,  gained 
forever." 

She  prided  herself  upon  her  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
but  she  had  not  yet  learned  that  ninety-nine  out  of  every 
hundred  men,  who  have  achieved  a  reputation  as  lady- 


266  "FOE  BETTER,  FOE  WORSE." 

killers,  never  part  with  the  memory  of  their  triumphs  in 
that  line,  or  the  ambition  to  maintain  the  character  in 
which  their  laurels  were  gained,  even  if  they  live  to  be  an 
hundred,  save  one,  years  of  age.  "  Still  in  the  ashes  "  of 
their  ancient  charms  "  live  the  wonted  fires  "  of  conceit  and 
desire  to  prolong  the  day  of  their  conquests.  Had  Kate 
understood  this,  she  might  have  overlooked  the  spice  of 
masculine  vanity  that  prompted  her  husband's  remark,  and 
laughed  with,  rather  than  at  him,  or  she  would  more  pro- 
bably have  winced  and  wondered  at  the  flaw  in  her  em- 
bodied ideal.  As  it  was,  there  was  left  upon  her  mind  by 
the  occurrences  of  the  evening  —  all  of  them  pitiful  trifles  in 
the  recital  —  a  shadow,  like  that  made  by  an  acrid  breath 
upon  steel  that,  however  polished,  is  yet  imperfectly  tem- 
pered, or  not  altogether  pure.  She  forbore  to  reveal  the 
divers  uncomfortable  things  that  had  disturbed  her  equani- 
mity when  she  had  the  opportunity  of  private  conversation 
with  Sydney.  Explanation  and  apology  were  for  him  —  not 
her.  He  offered  neither.  The  simple  truth  was  that 
upon  his  accustomed  ear  Eliza's  spiteful  darts  rattled  like 
peas  from  a  boy's  pop-gun  upon  a  warrior's  helmet.  If  the 
patter  became  too  sharp  and  continuous,  he  got  out  of  the 
way,  or  threw  a  sop  to  her  ill-conditioned  Cerberus.  Gen- 
erally, he  made  it  a  rule  to  forget  all  about  her  picayune 
battery  by  the  time  she  was  through  speaking.  That  a  sen- 
sible woman  like  Kate  should  ever  attach  the  least  impor- 
tance to  anything  his  sister  might  say  or  do  when  in  "  one 
of  her  humors  "  never  entered  his  comfortable  imagination. 
In  that  one  adjective  lay  the  key  to  "  handsome  Syd  Bent- 
ley's"  character.  He  dearly  loved  comfort  of  body  and 
spirit.  The  incessant  petting  that  had  been  his  portion 
from  babyhood  had  not  spoiled  his  sweet,  equable  temper, 
or  rendered  selfish  impulses  naturally  generous  and  noble, 
or  vitiated  the  powers  of  an  excellent  mind.  But  it  had 


"FOE  BETTEE,   FOE  WOESE."  267 

engendered  a  love  of  ease,  and  the  belief  that  freedom  from 
sorrow  and  annoyance  was  his  birthright.  To  secure  this, 
he  would  exert  himself  as  few  other  inducements  could 
tempt  him  to  do.  He  got  out  of,  or  around  a  difficulty 
whenever  he  could  —  seldom  over  one;  and  when  the 
obstacle  of  his  bien-etre  —  a  French  word  he  was  fond  of — 
was  stubborn,  he  had  the  rare  faculty  of  forging  it  -  - 
putting  it  behind  hi^  back. 


268  "  FOE  BETTER,   FOB   WORSE. 


CHAPTER  IL 

IT  occurred  to  Sydney,  several  times,  during  the  week 
succeeding  the  evening  described  in  the  last  chapter,  that 
Kate  was  more  quiet  than  was  her  wont,  and  once  or  twice, 
that  it  was  a  sad  quietness;  but  his  affectionate  queries 
as  to  the  cause  of  her  depression,  if  such  existed,  were 
easily  parried,  so  easily  that  she  was  cut  to  the  quick  by 
his  seeming  indifference  to  her  visible  unhappiness.  He 
was  the  more  astonished,  therefore,  when,  upon  the  day  pre- 
ceding Miss  Lambert's  arrival,  she  broke  out  impetuously 
with,  — 

"  Sydney,  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  truly  if  you  were 
ever  in  love  with  this  girl  who  is  expected  to-morrow !  " 

They  were  sitting  upon  she  spot  where  we  had  our  first 
glimpse  of  them, —  "  Sunset  Rock,  "  Kate  had  named  it, — 
side  by  side,  her  head  upon  his  shoulder-  They  had  been 
silent  for  perhaps  five  minutes,  and  he  started  at  the  vehe- 
ment question  that  ended  the  pause. 

"Hey-day!"  he  said  merrily.  "What  is  the  meaning 
of  this?  You  are  not  growing  jealous,  surely,  my  pet?  " 

"  Not  jealous  !  No  ;  I  should  scorn  to  be  that !  At 
least"  —  more  slowly  —  "  I  think  I  should!  But  it  an- 
noys me  to  hear  Eliza's  perpetual  allusions  to  your  'old 
flame''  and  <  Love's  first  young  dream,'  and  the  need  of  re- 
doubled brilliancy  on  my  part,  if  I  would  not  be  eclipsed, 
and  the  like  unkind  remarks.  If  I  knew  the  truth,  I 
should  not  be  so  entirely  at  her  mercy. " 


269 


Sydney  laughed  heartly.  "  My  precious  child  !  "  he  said, 
recovering  himself,  "  what  a  frightful  man  of  straw  you 
have  been  manufacturing  for  your  discomfort  and  my 
amusement !  Is  it  possible  that  you  mind  Eliza's  fanfaron- 
ades ?  They  affect  me  about  as  seriously  as  does  the  rust- 
ling of  these  leaves  above  and  about  us  in  this  westerly 
wind.  She  does  not  mean  one-hundredth  part  of  what 
she  says.  It  is  only  her  way ;  a  habit  she  acquired  when 
she  was  a  gay  giddy  girl,  and  has  not  laid  aside.  "When 
you  come  to  know  her  better,  you  will  learn  that  she  pos- 
sesses some  admirable  traits  and  a  throughly  kind  heart. 
She  always  shows  the  worst  side  first." 

"  He  defends  her  readily  enough  at  the  least  approach  to 
censure  from  me !  "  thought  the  wife,  sullenly.  (l  But  she 
may  deride,  and  berate  me  all  day  long,  and  he  dare  not 
utter  a  syllable  in  my  defence.  Is  this  diffidence,  or  moral 
cowardice  ?  " 

Sydney  mistook  the  meaning  of  her  lowering  brow. 
"  Will  you  smile  again  for  me,  dear,  if  I  assure  you  that 
I  was  never  the  least  bit  in  love  with  Miss  Lambert  ?  that 
I  never  desired  to  marry  any  other  woman  than  her  whom 
*  I  now  hold  by  the  hand,'  whom  I  hope  to  hold  closely 
and  fondly,  as  I  do  this  moment,  until  we  go  down,  hand 
in  hand,  into  the  dark  valley  at  the  end  of  life  ?  " 

Her  disengaged  arm  crept  around  his  neck,  and  her 
blushing,  happy  face  was  hidden  upon  his  shoulder. 
"  Thank  you !  thank  you  !  I  did  not  know,  until  now, 
that  I  am  so  gloriously  happy.  How  I  dreaded  lest  you 
should  say  that  you  had  loved  and  wooed  her  before  you 
did  me  !  " 

"  Do  you  know,  little  one,  that  it  is  naughty  to  be  greedy  ?  " 
said  Sydney,  with  the  playful  tenderness  that  became  him. 
more  than  any  other  mood,  smoothing  her  brown  hair, 


270  "FOE  BETTBE,  FOE  WORSE." 

then  lifting  her  head  with  gentle  violence  that  he  might 
search  her  eyes  with  his. 

"  Indeed,  I  am  not  selfish  — so  selfish,  I  mean,  about  any- 
thing else ;  but  I  have  been  miserable,  and  uncharitable, 
and  cross  "  — 

He  stopped  her  mouth  with  a  kiss.  "No  more  hard 
words  about  my  wife,  madam  !  But  "  —  laughing  again  — 
"how  emphatically  you  brought  out  those  words  —  'that 
girl ' !  You  looked  so  spiritedly  beautiful  as  you  enunci- 
ated them,  that  I  cannot  regret  the  occasion  that  excited 
your  ire.  Wait  until  you  see  the  dangerous  rival,  Katie 
darling,  beibre  you  conclude  that  I  was  ever  'daft'  with 
love  for  her.  She  is  pretty,  insinuating,  and  clever,  after 
a  certain  fashion,  but  she  has  no  more  real  heart  than  there 
is  in  an  iceberg.  She  is  a  mere  flesh-and-blood  doll,  with 
nature's  own  red  and  white  cunningly  laid  on,  dressed  in 
the  height  of  the  mode,  with  exquisite  taste  in  the  matter  of 
ribbons,  laces,  and  perfumes.  Further,  this  deponent  saith 
not." 

Miss  Lambert  was  expected  to  supper  the  next  evening ; 
and  when  Kate  appeared  in  the  family  sitting-room  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  carriage  which  had  been  sent 
for  her  returned  from  the  depot,  Eliza  met  her  with  a  disa- 
greeably meaning  smile. 

"  Got  up»to  order,  I  see  !  " 

"  How  handsome  you  are  !  "  said  Mrs.  Hisley,  the  married 
sister,  whom  Kate  liked  and  esteemed  as  thoroughly  as  she 
despised  the  elder.  "  Sydney  ought  to  see  you  just  now, 
while  your  roses  are  fresh  and  new." 

"  He  is  remarkably  well  entertained  where  he  is,"  rejoined 
Eliza.  "  I  doubt  if  he  would  exchange  his  present  compan- 
ion for  any  other." 

He  had  gone  in  the  carriage  to  meet  the  guest. 

Kate— -as  was  but  natural  and  seemly — had  attired  her* 


"  FOE  BETTER,   FOE   WOESE."  271 

self  as  he  liked  best  to  see  her,  with  just  a  sufficient  touch 
of  ambitiou  to  outshine  the  new-comer  to  make  her  crimson 
guiltily  at  Eliza's  coarse  comment.  She  had  said  to  herself, 
up  to  that  instant,  that  her  foolish  jealously  of  the  red-and- 
white  doll  had  evaporated  into  the  merest  mist  before  Syd- 
ney's emphatic  denial  that  there  had  ever  been  any  tender 
passages  between  him  and  the  beauty.  She  had  been  very 
happy  since  the  restoration  of  her  confidence  in  him,  and 
she  was  resolved  not  to  regard  pin-pricks,  however  annoying 
they  might  be.  So,  she  smiled  gratefully  at  Mrs.  Risley's 
compliment,  and  seated  herself  near  Mrs.  Bentley,  a  placid 
old  lady,  who  had  thrown  up  the  reins  of  government  to 
her  energetic  eldest  daughter  so  many  years  before  that  she 
had  outlived  the  very  memory  of  freedom. 

"  You  are  looking  very  sweetly,  my  love,  "  said  the  amiable 
mother-in-law.  "  White  is  very  becoming  to  you." 

"I  must  beg  leave  to  differ  with  you  there,  at  least," 
contradicted  Eliza.  "  She  is  too  dark  and  sallow  to  look 
well  in  anything  but  bright  colors.  It  is  a  pity,  Kate,  that 
your  style  is  not  more  decided.  You  are  neither  very  fair, 
nor  yet  a  clear  brunette.  Rita  Lambert,  being  an  unmistak- 
able blonde,  with  a  brilliant  complexion,  looks  magnificently 
in  white." 

It  was  very  hard  to  bear  —  these  continual  exhibitions  of 
personal  animosity  and  violations  of  the  commonest  rules  of 
civility  and  good  breeding ;  but  Kate  was  a  genuine  lady  in 
nature  and  breeding,  and  she  restrained  her  rising  choler. 
Since  the  mother  and  sisters  failed  to  rebuke  the  rudenes 
offered  her,  it  was  not  her  place  to  complain  of  it. 

She  would  not  have  had  time  for  remonstrance,  indeed, 
for  the  carriage  rolled  around  to  the  front  entrance  as  Eliza 
ceased  speaking,  and  the  four  ladies  pressed  into  the  piazza, 
to  receive  the  favorite  visitor.  Kate  did  not  arise  from  her 
seat,  and  was  left  alone  in  the  parlor.  She  distinguished, 


272  "FOE  BETTER,  FOE  WOESE." 

amid  the  confusion  of  other  voices,  a  strange  one,  —  a  mello\f 
contralto,  —  the  accents  of  which  affected  the  ear  as  the 
downy  surface  of  silk  velvet  the  finger-tips. 

"  I  have  been  telling  him  that  he  has  acquired  the  look 
and  air  of  '  Benedick  the  married  man '  sooner  than  any 
other  person  I  ever  saw,"  was  the  one  connected  sentence 
that  reached  the  solitary  inmate  of  the  drawing-room. 

Then  Eliza's  thin  treble  jingled  discordantly  upon  the 
dulcet  tones,  "Hasn't  he?  You  see,  Sydney,  I  am  not 
the  only  one  that  thinks  you  have  been  tamed  in  a  marvel- 
lously short  time." 

Sydney  made  some  jocular  retort,  and  as  the  clamor  of 
women's  voices  died  away  up  the  stairs,  he  entered  the 
room  where  his  wife  awaited  him.  His  eyes  kindled  in 
falling  upon  her,  and  when  she  arose  to  receive  his  kiss, 
he  smiled  and  said  a  caressing  word.  His  next  movement 
—  a  singularly  abrupt  one  for  him  whose  motions  were 
habitually  deliberately  graceful — was  to  approach  a 
mirror  and  inspect  his  full-length  image  as  therein  re- 
flected. 

"Have  I  really  grown  so  much  older  and  graver, 
Katie,  love?  Do  you  see  any  marked  change  in  my  ap- 
pearance ?" 

"Since   when?"     she  asked,  somewhat  shortly. 

His  mind  was  so  full  of  the  derogatory  criticism  passed 
upon  his  good  looks,  that  he  had  not  noticed  hers ,  was 
more  blind  to  the  pleasing  effect  produced  by  her  tasteful 
apparel  and  heightened  color  than  his  mother  and  sisters 
had  been.  Kate  —  albeit  her  besetting  sin  was  not  personal 
vanity  —  felt  the  oversight  keenly. 

"  Bita  Lambert  will  have  it  that  I  am  quite  another 
man  from  the  one  she  parted  with  a  year  ago.  She  more 
than  intimated  that  I  was  looking  sober  and  dull, — pass£t 
as  she  put  it." 


"FOE  BETTER,   FOE  WOESE."  273 

Looking  up  to  scout  the  assertion  of  the  saucy  belle, 
Kate's  face  beamed  suddenly  with  love  and  pride,  approxi- 
mating adoration. 

"Apollo  was  never  more  royally  beautiful  1"  escaped 
Aer,  before  she  knew  what  she  was  saying. 

Royally  beautiful !  The  epithet  was  not  too  forcible  for 
the  features  and  figure  upon  which  her  eyes  feasted.  The 
honest  outburst  of  the  fond  heart  went  straight  to  that  of 
the  hearer.  What  signified  the  praise  or  disapproval  of 
others  while  this  loyal  lover  was  his  —  all  his  —  and  he 
perfection  in  her  estimation?  Catching  the  contagion  of 
her  impulsive  manner  and  speech,  he  dropped  to  one  knee 
upon  the  rug  at  her  feet,  and  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips. 
"My  queen!  noblest,  dearest  —  and,  to  me,  fairest  of 
women ! " 

She  bent  low  to  kiss  his  forehead,  without  care  or  thought 
of  rival  or  mischief-maker. 

"  For  decency's  sake !  "  said  Eliza,  angrily,  from  a  side 
door.  "For  decency's  sake,  don't  be  enacting  your  private 
theatricals  in  this  part  of  the  house !  You  can  rehearse  in 
your  own  room  to  your  heart's  content.  I  never  saw  such 
absurd  and  shameful  carryings-on  as  we  have  here,  nowa- 
days. Sydney,  I  am  astonished  at  you!" 

The  stress  upon  the  pronoun  rendered  her  insinuation  too 
offensive  for  Kate  to  brook. 

"  Do  you  hear  what  she  says  ? "  she  exclaimed,  to  her 
husband,  her  cheeks  white  as  her  dress,  and  her  eyes 
parkling  with  anger.  "Am  I  to  endure  this  always, 
without  complaint  or  redress  ?  —  to  be  hourly  browbeaten, 
slandered,  insulted,  and  you  not  speak  in  my  de- 
fence?" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  my  dearest!"  Sydney  glanced  nervously 
towards  the  open  door.  "Eliza  is  in  jest"  — 

"  Not  I !"  interrupted  his   sister,    stoutly. 


274: 


"  E  rerybody  laughs  at  love  scenes,"  continued  the  worse 
than  perplexed  Benedick.  "I  dare  say  we  —  you  and  I, 
niy  pet !  —  would  be  highly  diverted  ourselves,  were  we  to 
stumble  upon  a  tableau  vivant  like  that  which  Eliza  inter- 
rupted. She  did  not  mean  to  wound  you  "  — 

"  Don't  apologize  for  me  !  I  can  take  care  of  myself !  If 
your  wife  has  taken  umbrage  at  my  language,  I  don't  call 
upon  you  to  protect  me.  Only  fools  and  cowards  run  scream- 
ing to  '  husband,'  whenever  any  one  crooks  a  finger  at  them. 
Pah!"  and  the  virago  left  the  field  clear,  before  her  brother 
could  recover  wits  or  breath  to  answer  her  latest  and  most 
audacious  remark. 

Kate  sank  upon  a  sofa,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
"I  am  very  sorry  this  has  happened,  my  precious  one  !" 
said  Sydney,  sitting  down  by  her  and  trying  to  draw  her  to- 
wards  him.     "  Eliza  was  very  wrong.      She  had  no    right 
to  address  you,  or  to  speak  of  you  in  the  way  she  did "  — 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  her  so,  then  ?  "  demanded  the  out- 
raged bride,  confronting  him  sternly.  "  Remember,  I  shall 
never  appeal  to  you  for  help,  comfort,  or  protection  again  ! 
no,  not  if  the  knife  were  at  my  throat,  and  I  knew  that  a 
word  from  you  would  save  my  life  !"  . 

Sydney  drew  back  aghast.  "  Kate  !  are  you  raving  ?  You 
cannot  mean  to  say  such  terrible  things !" 

"I  always  mean  what  I  say,  and  I  am  not  afraid  to  say 
what  I  think !"  Without  waiting  to  witness  the  effect  of 
this  "  double-header,"  she  shook  off  his  hold  and  marched, 
out  of  the  room. 

Sydney  had  a  profound  respect  for  appearances ;  and  sorely 
discomposed  though  he  was  by  this  stormy  episode,  he  met 
Miss  Lambert,  as  she  descended  to  the  parlor,  twenty  minutes 
later,  with  the  urbane  cordiality  that  rendered  him  so  popu- 
lar as  a  host,  and  a  handsomely  turned  compliment  to  her 
onimpaired  comeliness,  which  won  from  her  a  reconsidera* 


"FOB  BETTEK,   FOE  WORSE."  275 

tion  of  her  expressed  judgement  as  to  the  traces  of  time  and 
matrimony  upon  his.  She  had  been  premature  in  pronounc- 
ing her  verdict,  she  was  graciously  pleased  to  acknowledge. 
He  was  looking  quite  his  former  and  younger  self. 

"  But  where  is  Mrs.  Bentley  ?"  she  asked,  looking  around 
the  room.  "  I  am  all  impatience  to  behold  your  divinity." 

"  She  has  been  suffering  with  headache  all  day ;  she  is 
lying  down,  just  at  present.  I  hope,  however,  that  she  will 
be  well  enough  to  appear  at  supper-time.  Her  desire  to 
meet  you  surpasses  yours  to  know  her." 

What  further  lie  he  would  have  improvised  to  cover  the 
awkward  gap  left  by  his  wife's  retreat  to  the  rear  was  not 
to  be  proved.  At  this  point  of  his  discourse  he  detected  a 
lurking  glimmer  of  malicious  amusement  in  Miss  Lambert's 
eye,  and  the  truth  rushed  upon  him,  to  wit,  that  his  beloved 
sister  Eliza  —  with  her  customary  contempt  for  the  ordinary 
expediencies  and  proprieties  governing  most  family  squab- 
bles—  had,  without  doubt,  primed  her  favorite  Rita  with 
the  latest  bit  of  household  scandal  before  she  left  her  dress- 
ing-room. Controlling  his  countenance  as  best  he  could,  he 
exchanged  a  few  not  very  dexterous  sentences  of  badinage 
with  the  fascinating  visitor  j  resigned  her  to  his  sisters, 
and  wended  his  way  with  a  quaking  heart,  to  his  wife's 
chamber. 

Her  scornful  words  had  cut  him  deeply,  but  the  smart 
was  already  less  keen  than  it  had  been  at  first ;  and  gauging 
her  nature  by  his  own  more  placable  one,  he  hoped  to  find 
her  amenable  to  reason  and  coaxing.  He  had  no  reproaches 
for  her.  Why  should  she  not  be  as  willing  to  forgive  and 
forget  ?  All  young  married  people  had  these  slight  alterca- 
tions, —  passing  clouds,  —  that  made  more  fair  and  dear  the 
restored  sunshine.  Kate  unlocked  the  door  promptly  at  his 
familiar  tap,  but  left  him  to  turn  the  bolt  for  himself.  This 
was  an  inauspicious  beginning,  but  he  must  not  be  daunted 


276  "FOE  BETTKR,  FOE  WORSE." 

by  trifles.  Since  the  task  must  be  accomplished,  he  would 
go  straight  on  with  the  work  of  reconciliation.  He  had  ex- 
pected to  see  her  dissolved  in  tears,  but  her  eyes  were  dry 
• —  and  resolute. 

"  Come,  my.  beauty  ! "  he  said,  in  blithe  coaxing.  "  Tea 
will  be  served  in  a  few  minutes,  and  Miss  Lambert  is  in  the 
parlor  awaiting  anxiously  an  introduction  to  you." 

"  I  am  not  going  down." 

"  What ?"  queried  Sydney,  incredulous  as  to  the  fidelity' 
of  the  auriculars  that  conveyed  to  his  mind  the  stunning 
reply. 

"  I  shall  not  leave  this  room  until  Eliza  asks  my  pardon 
for  her  unprovoked  insolence  !"  rejoined  Kate,  in  calm  deter- 
mination. 

Sydney  absolutely  staggered  to  the  nearest  chair.  "  Don't 
say  that,  my  love,  I  beg !  You  do  not  know  how  obstinate 
she  isj  She  will  never  retract  one  iota  of  what  she  has  once 
said."' 

"Very  well!  Then  I  stay  here,  until  it  pleases  you  to 
take  me  away  from  this  house,  never  to  return." 

"  Kate,  my  sweet  girl !  in  mercy  to  my  father,  my  mother, 
and  the  sisters  who  have  not  offended  you  —  who  love  you 
dearly,  and  who  would  be  heart-broken  were  they  to  know 
of  this  uuhappy  estrangement ;  in  pity  for  me,  whose  very 
soul  is  bound  up  in  your  happiness,  do  not  persist  in 
this  cruel  resolution !  You  punish  the  innocent  with  the 
guilty!" 

He  talked  on  and  on,  arguing,  soothing,  and  entreating. 
Kate  stood  like  a  statue,  every  line  of  her  face  fixed  and 
pitiless.  In  the  midst  of  the  scene  the  tea-bell  rang.  Sydney 
was  in  an  agony. 

"  This  wretched  story  will  go  the  rounds  of  my  acquaint- 
ances !"  he  exclaimed,  in  frantic  despair.  "Rita  Lambert 
would  enjoy  nothing  more  than  to  get  hold  of  it,  and  repeat 


'FOE  BETTER,   FOE  WOESE."  277 

it  to  everybody  she  meets  who  ever  saw  or  heard  of  me.  1 
shall  be  the  laughing-stock  of  town  and  country !  I  can 
never  hold  up  my  head  in.  the  world-  again !" 

Kate  turned.  A  swift  change  went  over  her  countenance. 
It  was  not  relenting,  or  sympathy  with  his  anguish.  It  looked 
more  like  contempt.  "I  am  ready !  shall  we  go  down 
now  ?  " 

She  would  not  suffer  the  fondling  with  which  he  would 
have  thanked  her  for  her  altered  purpose  ;  paid  no  appareni 
heed  to  his  praises  of  her  good  sense  and  amiability.  While 
he  was  still  pouring  these  forth  she  walked  past  him  to  the 
door,  and  he  only  overtook  her  upon  the  staircase. 

Miss  Lambert,  who  had  been  gloating  over  the  antioipa 
tion  of  witnessing  a  conjugal  thunderstorm,  was  disappointed 
at  seeing  them  enter  the  supper-room,  arm  in  arm,  he  radiant 
and  talkative,  she  colorless  and  taciturn ;  but  that  might  be 
her  usual  deportment  to  strangers. 

"  She  can  be  agreeable  enough,  when  it  pleases  her  High- 
ness," Eliza  had  said  to  her  friend,  in  sketching  her  new 
and  unloved  sister,  "but  at  other  times  she  is  lofty  as  a 
duchess.  I  should  as  soon  have  thought  of  Syd,  with  his 
ardent  temperament,  marrying  a  graven  image,  as  such  a 
woman." 

Miss  Lambert  quickly  concluded  that  the  present  was  one 
of  the  "  other "  and  ungenial  times,  and  was  not  daunted  by 
the  iciness  of  the  bride's  demeanor.  The  beauty  was  not 
the  doll  Sydney  had  described  her.  She  was  a  magnificent 
blonde,  with  a  creamy  skin,  dark-blue  eyes,  melting  lips, 
and  golden  hair.  She,  too,  had  chosen  to  bedeck  herself  in 
white  on  this  evening;  a  sheer  muslin,  that  floated  in  re- 
dundant waves  downward  from  her  pliant  waist,  and  rolled 
in  fleecy  heaps  upon  the  floor,  and  that  softened,  without 
concealing  the  bewitching  contour  of  her  arms  and  shoul- 
ders. A  scarlet  shawl  had  slipped  from  the  latter  to  hei 


278 


elbows,  and  supplied  the  needful  dash  of  coloring  to  the 
picture.  She  saluted  Kate  effusively,  and  the  unimpas- 
sioned  reception  of  her  demonstrations  put  a  slight  check 
upon  Sydney's  recovered  cheerfulness. 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  your  headache  is  much  better ! " 
said  the  sympathizing  Rita,  when  she  had  squeezed  Kate's 
hands  very  hard  in  both  of  hers,  and  been  "  so  rejoiced  to 
meet  one  of  whom  she  had  heai'd  so  much."  "  I  have  so 
longed  for  this  moment!  Sydney  —  I  beg  your  pardon — 
Mr.  Bentley"  —  correcting  herself  with  charming  naivete — 
"  told  me  that  you  were  suffering  intensely.  I  am  a  martyr 
to  headache,  myself;  therefore  I  can  feel  for  you.  Do  you 
often  have  these  turns?" 

"  Very  seldom !  I  did  suffer  for  a  while,"  replied  Kate ; 
"  but  I  am  better  now;  quite  well,  indeed,  thank  you !  " 

Sydney  caught  the  meaning  of  the  equivoque,  and  bit  his 
lip.  But  he  did  not  interpret  the  language  of  the  scornful 
ray  that  gleamed  suddenly  through  her  long  eyelashes. 

"  He  is  consistent,  at  all  events,"  was  her  thought."  He 
puts  his  principles  into  practice  whenever  occasion  warrants 
their  exercise.  He  has  'lied'  us  both  'out  of  the  scrape,' 
and  done  it  with  his  usual  cleverness." 

The  evening  went  off  gayly.  Sydney  had  never  shone  to 
greater  advantage  in  person,  conversation,  and  musical  dis- 
play. Rita  was  graciously  lavish  of  flattering  phrases,  hon- 
eyed words,  and  languishing  glances;  Eliza,  caustic  and 
unscrupulous  of  others'  feelings  and  opinions,  yet  in  a  very 
decent  humor  for  her.  In  originality  and  sparkle  of  thought 
Kate  bore  off  the  palm,  and  she  appreciated  her  superiority ' 
as  thoroughly  as  did  the  exultant  husband,  whose  beaming 
eye  or  delighted  smile  applauded  her  every  bon-mot.  Still, 
there  was  nothing  that  could  be  mistaken  for  geniality  in 
her  words  or  manner.  Her  wit  was  like  the  play  of  northern 
lights  upon  ice, — weird-like  and  dazzling.  Even  Miss  Lam« 


279 


bert  was  kept  at  a  respectful  distance,  and  there  were  few 
who  could  remain  proof  against  her  blandishments. 

"Sydney!"  she  said,  abruptly,  by  and  by.  "Again  — 
forgive  me  !  It  is  hard  to  forget  old  habits." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  to  forget  this  one,"  rejoined  Syd- 
ney, pleasantly.  "  <  Mr.  Bentley '  is  very  stiff  and  awkward 
from  your  lips.  What  were  you  about  to  say  ?  " 

"To  ask  if  you  saw  Rachel  as  Camille  in  'Les  Horaces,' 
when  she  was  in  this  country." 

"I  did.     Why?" 

"Look  at  Mrs  Bentley — not  your  mother,  your  wife — 
as  she  stands  now,  and  tell  me  if  you  do  not  see  her  wonder- 
ful resemblance  to  the  great  artiste  ?  " 

Kate  and  Anna  were  engaged  upon  the  famous  duet  in 
Norma.  Anna  was  singing,  and  Kate  stood  quietly  by, 
awaiting  her  turn.  She  wore  a  dress  of  white  alpaca,  with 
a  very  full  and  long  skirt.  The  evening  was  a  cool  one,  in 
early  autumn,  so  cool  that  a  wood-fire  had-  been  kindled 
upon  the  hearth.  Kate  had  coughed  slightly  an  hour  before, 
and  Sydney,  taking  alarm,  had  rushed  up-stairs  for  a  shawl. 
Man-like,  he  had  chosen  to  bring  down  the  handsomest  she 
possessed,  —  a  white  one,  with  a  rich  Indian  border,  the  only 
article  of  dress  he  had  as  yet  given  her.  She  had  thanked 
him,  quietly,  as  he  folded  it  about  her,  and  Miss  Lambert 
had  gone  into  ecstasies  over  the  beauty  of  the  cashmere. 
Kate  wore  it,  as  she  did  everything  else,  gracefully.  Her 
white  draperies  fell  in  motionless  curves  and  folds,  that 
looked  like  classic  marble.  Her  eyes  rested  upon  the  piano- 
keys  and  Anna's  swift  fingers;  her  mouth  was  sad  and 
stern. 

"Rachel  was  very  homely,  was  she  not?"  asked  Eliza, 
feigning  childish  simplicity. 

"  She  was  beautiful  when  she  willed  to  be  so,"  responded 


280  "FOE  BETTER,  FOE  WOESE." 

Miss  Lambert  adroitly.  "You  observe  the  likeness,  dt 
you  not?  "  to  Sydney. 

"  I  certainly  do  !     It  is  wonderful,  as  you  say !  " 

He  was  gazing  at  his  wife,  as  if  he  would  never  let  her 
pass  from  his  sight.  Kate's  hearing  was  remarkably  acute. 
She  h«,d  not  lost  a  word  of  all  this,  although  Anna  was  ex- 
pending all  the  strength  of  her  sweet  little  voice  in  agonizing 
entreaty  that  Norma  would  in  pity  hear  her.  But  she  did 
lose  that  look  of  prideful  affection,  and  the  smile  that  accom- 
panied his  reply. 

Eliza  saw  both,  and  her  acidulated  nature  overflowed. 

"How  differently  people  are  impressed  by  the  same  ob- 
ject! Now,  I  was  just  thinking  that  Kate  reminded  me 
painfully  of  a  corpse,  laid  out,  a  la  mode,  in  white  merino, 
with  a  bunch  of  flowers  upon  her  breast."  This  referred  to 
a  bouquet  held  carelessly  between  Kate's  fingers. 

"  You  shocking  girl !  "  cried  Miss  Lambert  with  a  hys- 
terical giggle. 

Sydney  was  silent. 

Anna  glanced  up  surprisedly,  at  Norma's  delay  in  begin- 
ning her  part,  and  all  conversation  was  suspended,  as  the 
responsive  burst  of  passionate  music  filled  the  room. 

"When  the  heart  is  cold  that  should  have  cherished 

Every  hope  of  joy  it  falsely  gave, 

Woulilst  thou  have  me  live  ?    Ah  1  no,  thou  wouldst  not  I 
My  only  haven,  alas  J  ia  but  the  grave  1 n 


«fX)E  BETTE32,  FOE  WOESE."  281 


CHAPTER  in. 

"  KATE,  I  met  Rita  Lambert  in  the  street  to-day." 

"Ah!" 

The  interjection  did  not  encourage  a  continuation  of  the 
subject,  and  Sydney  waited  a  moment  before  renewing  the 
conversation. 

"  She  sent  her  love  to  you,  and  told  me  to  say  that  she 
meant  to  waive  ceremony  with  such  old  Mends,  and  come  to 
see  you." 

"Did  she  say  when  I  might  expect  her?" 

"  She  mentioned  to-morrow  evening,  I  think.  Will  that 
be  perfectly  convenient  to  you  ?  " 

"  Quite  as  convenient  as  any  other  time."  Kate  leaned 
over  to  take  up  her  sick  child  from  the  crib,  and  busied 
herself  with  her,  smoothing  her  hair,  adjusting  her  wrapper 
more  comfortably  about  her  limbs,  and  moistening  the  hot 
lips.  Then  she  laid  the  little  head  upon  her  shoulder,  and 
commenced  rocking  her  to  and  fro. 

"  How  is  she  to-night  ?  "  asked  Sydney,  affectionately, 
stroking  the  feverish  cheek  with  his  cool  fingers. 

He  was  a  very  woman  in  his  knack  of  treating  invalids 
and  babies. 

"About  the  same." 

"  Papa  has  something  pretty  in  his  pocket  for  Lulu !  " 
pursued  the  father.  "Will  she  come  and  see  it?"  The 
little  one  sat  up  and  stretched  out  her  arms.  "Papa's  dar- 
24* 


282  "FOE  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

ling !  "  murmured  Sydney,  taking  the  light  weight  into  hia 
own.  "  She  has  fever  still,  has  she  not  ?  " 

"  She  has,  all  the  time,"  answered  Kate,  in  patient  weari- 
ness, unable  to  repress  a  struggling  sigh. 

It  caught  the  husband's  ear.  "You  are  not  anxious 
about  her,  are  you,  dear?  I  met  the  doctor,  to-day.  He 
says  that  her  symptoms  are  the  inevitable  consequence  of 
scarlet  fever,  such  as  he  sees  in  dozens  of  other  cases  in  his 
daily  practice.  He  assured  me,  voluntarily,  that  there  was 
no  occasion  for  alarm.  I  am  much  more  uneasy  about  you 
than  on  her  account.  Children  have  a  wonderful  surplus  of 
vitality.  She  will  come  out  all  right,  by  and  by.  You  are 
growing  very  thin  and  pale,  my  pet !  It  gives  me  an  inces- 
sant heartache  to  note  and  think  upon  the  change.  When 
baby  grows  up,  she  must  never  forget  what  mamma  has 
done  and  suffered  for.  her,  during  this  sadly  anxious  Fall." 

Kate  made  no  answer.  Not  a  muscle  changed  in  her  still, 
grave  face.  She  wrapped  the  child's  afghan  about  her  feet, 
as  she  lay  in  her  father's  arms,  engrossed  by  the  examination 
of  her  new  treasure,  a  picture-book  emblazoned  in  glowing 
and  varied  colors.  The  mother  resumed  her  chair,  and 
seemed  to  be  occupied  by  an  elaborate  piece  of  needle- 
work. 

But  her  eye  never,  in  reality,  left  Lulu.  She  had  been 
married  more  than  six  years,  and  this  frail  bud  only  had 
been  given  into  her  bosom.  She  was  now  in  her  third  year 
—  a  remarkably  pretty  child,  a  softened  miniature  of  her 
handsome  father;  yet  so  delicate  that  the  mother  had  never 
known  the  perfect  sweetness  of  proprietorship  in  this, 
Heaven's  best  gift  to  her  woman's  heart.  One  after  another, 
the  maladies  incident  to  infancy  had  done  their  will  upon 
the  fragile  little  being,  until  it  seemed  as  if  each  had  left 
her  no  strength  to  meet  and  cope  with  the  next.  Still,  she 
did  resist  the  blighting  influences,  and,  within  the  past  week, 


"  FOR  BETTER,   FOR   WORSE."  285 

the  watchful  nurse  had  allowed  herself  to  hope  that  the 
elasticity  of  constitution  which  had  borne  her  through,  so 
much  might  eventually  triumph;  her  cares  be  abundantly 
rewarded  by  the  establishment  of  healthful  vigor.  She  was 
not  dreaming  of  this  to-night,  however,  while  her  needle 
moved  rapidly  through  the  slip  she  was  fashioning  for  hoi 
darling.  She  was  doubting  whether  the  dainty  garment 
might  not  become  her  baby's  burial  robe.  The  apprehension 
had  started  into  life  out  of  the  apparent  plenitude  of  her 
husband's  confidence  in  the  child's  convalescence. 

"  He  is  trying  to  deceive  me.  The  doctor  has  admitted 
to  him  the  fact  that  my  baby  is  in  danger.  His  pretended 
solicitude  about  my  health  is  a  plausible  blind  for  his  true 
feelings  respecting  her." 

She  asked  no  questions.  Her  life  seemed  failing  her, 
drop  by  drop,  as  she  followed  to  its  heart-rending  conclusion 
the  fancy  that  had  gained  a  lodgment  in  her  mind ;  but  there 
was  no  present  remedy  for  the  slow  torture,  for  that  felt 
like  mortal  heart-sickness. 

"  He  would  not  tell  me  the  truth  if  I  begged  for  it  upon 
my  bended  knees.  If  he  did,  I  should  not  believe  him. " 

The  shadow  of  distrust  that  had  fallen  upon  Kate  Bent- 
ley's  spirit  with  the  beginning  of  the  second  month  of  her 
marriage,  had  increased  steadily  until  it  was  enshrouded 
in  hopeless  gloom.  Never  too  merciful  in  judgment,  she 
had  brought  her  kindly-tempered  husband — easy  of  con- 
science and  facile  of  speech — to  the  test  of  her  rigid 
rules  of  morality  and  taste,  and  found  him  wanting.  His 
careless  tongue  she  condemned  as  wickedly  mendacious; 
his  dread  of  annoyancj,  his  horror  of  disagreement  with 
those  he  loved,  moral  cowardice.  Her  eyes  once  opened 
to  these  flaws  in  a  character  she  had  wilfully  chosen  to  con- 
sider faultless,  her  verdict  far  outran  the  positive  evidence 
of  his  unworthiness,  and  she  believed  him  in  nothing.  In- 


284:  "FOE  BETTER,  FOB  WOKSE." 

stead  of  regarding  his  foibles  as  mere  offshoots,  the  pruning 
of  which  would  bring  symmetry  out  of  irregularity  without 
touching  the  vital  part  of  the  plant,  she  had  settled  stub- 
bornly down  into  the  persuasion  that  the  stock  was  evil  to 
the  root. 

Not  to  another  living  being  had  she  ever  breathed  a  hint 
of  the  deadly  corrosion  that  was  eating  into  the  fine  gold 
of  her  wedded  happiness.  She  was  bound  to  him  for  life, 
and  she  must  support,  as  she  could,  the  wretchedness  result- 
ing from  her  great  mistake.  She  would  be  to  him  still  a 
faithful  and  obedient  wife  —  yes  !  and  a  loving  —  despise 
herself  as  she  might  and  as  she  often  did,  in  that  her  affec 
dons  yet  clung,  like  ivy  to  ruins,  to  the  fragments  of  her 
shivered  idol.  Yet  she  felt  a  thrill  of  pride,  sometimes, 
in  his  beauty,  undimmed  by  the  years  that  had  passed  over 
them  since  their  bridal  day;  in  his  heroic  presence,  his 
manly  accomplishments,  and  conversational  powers.  Her 
heart  had  not  learned  to  beat  evenly  when  other  tongues 
praised  these  things  in  him,  and  congratulated  her  upon  her 
fortunate  lot.  She  schooled  herself  to  indifference ;  to  the 
mechanical  performance  of  the  duties  incumbent  upon  her 
as  wife,  housekeeper,  and  mother.  For  weeks  together 
she  would  delude  her  reason  into  the  conviction  that  this 
conscientious  regard  for  moral  and  legal  obligations  was  her 
sole  incentive  in  making  his  home  pleasant  to  himself  and 
his  friends ;  could  meet,  unmoved,  his  loving  eyes,  and 
receive,  without  a  quicker  motion  of  the  languid  blood,  the 
caresses  that  had  once  been  sweetest  luxuries ;  could  reply, 
in  measured,  passionless  accents,  to  his  fond  inquiries  as 
to  the  origin  of  her  visible  depression.  Again,  in  an  un- 
guarded moment,  when  the  thirst  of  the  emptied  heart  was 
at  its  height,  a  fond  word,  an  act  of  tender  generosity, — • 
it  might  be  the  inflection  of  a  tone  that  recalled  those  early, 
blissful  days,  —  would  rend  the  frozen  rock  to  its  centre, 


"FOE  BETTEE,   FOE   WOESE."  285 

and  the  tide  of  anguished  yearning  baffle  her  attempts  at 
control. 

A.t  these  seasons  she  had  wept  hysterically  upon  his 
bosom,  or  lain  in  his  arms  for  hours  together,  the  great 
silent  tears  gathering  and  dropping;  grief  he  could  not 
fathom  or  understand,  but  which  distressed  him  none  the 
less  because  the  source  lay  deeper  than  his  ken.  Gradually, 
he  had  ceased  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  her  disquiet. 
When  the  fit  came  on,  his  arms  and  heart  were  open  to  her 
as  ever,  and  his  fond  soothing  as  freely  bestowed.  In  the 
cold  reaction,  the  hauteur  or  apathy  that  succeeded  the 
indulgence,  he  likewise  refrained  from  remonstrance.  He 
never  complained  of  her,  let  her  humor  be  reserved  or 
reckless,  gloomy  or  sarcastic.  What  he  suffered  as  these 
periods  of  apparent  indifference  lengthened  and  the  break- 
ing up  of  the  frost  occured  at  rarer  intervals,  she  never 
thought. 

"  Nothing  hurts  him  long  !  "  she  would  reason,  bitterly, 
when  a  pained  look  crossed  his  face,  or  his  voice,  always 
gentle  to  her,  had  a  pathetic  cadence  that  touched  her, 
against  her  will,  in  her  angry  or  contemptuous  mood.  "  Na- 
tures like  his  have  the  faculty  of  forgetting  whatever  mars 
their  selfish  ease.  For  that  matter,  how  can  I  be  sure  that 
the  sorrowful  expression  and  sad  tone  are  not  counterfeits  !  " 

Lulu  was  mightily  entertained,  for  a  time,  with  her 
pictures  and  her  father's  explanation  of  them ;  but  at  length 
the  mother  detected  a  sharper  ring  in  her  eager  voice, 
noticed  that  she  was  growing  excited  and  irritable. 

"Let  me  take  her!"  she  said  to  her  husband;  "she  will 
weary  you. " 

"  Not  she  !  Papa  is  never  tired  of  amusing  his  birdling. 
I  wish  you  would  leave  her  entirely  to  my  care  and  lie  down 
for  an  hour,  dearest ! " 

Conscious  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  a  virtual  equivoca- 


286  "FOE  BETTEE, 

tion  in  not  assigning  the  true  reason  for  her  interruption, 
Kate  colored  slightly. 

"  She  is  talking  too  much,  "  she  replied,  without  noticing 
his  affectionate  proposal.  "  The  doctor  warned  me  against 
excitement."  Putting  by  her  work,  she  tried  to  coax  the 
little  one  to  resign  her  plaything.  "  Lulu  shall  have  it  again, 
to-morrow.  Mamma  will  rock  her  and  sing  a  pretty  song. '; 

"  No  !  "  screamed  the  child,  clutching  the  books  with  one 
hand  and  twisting  the  fingers  of  the  other  in  her  father's 
luxuriant  hair.  "I  don't  love  you  one  bit!  Go  away, 
naughty,  ugly  mamma !  Lulu  will  stay  with  her  sweet, 
pretty  papa ! " 

"  There  !  my  baby  mustn't  cry  !  Shall  papa  walk  awhile 
with  her  ?  "  asked  Sydney,  pressing  his  cheek  to  hers,  and 
hushing  her  sobs  as  by  magic.  "  And  the  beautiful  book 
shall  sleep  in  Lulu's  arms  while  she  is  riding ! " 

Kate  had  not  avoided  the  slap  aimed  at  her  face  by  the 
tiny  hand,  but  she  paid  no  outward  regard  to  it.  Hetreat- 
ing  to  her  chair  as  the  child  became  composed,  she  took  up 
her  work.  t(  His  policy  in  everything  !  "  was  her  medita- 
tion. "  Temporizing  and  flattering !  raising  no  issue  that 
cunning  or  coaxing  can  avoid;  not  even  to  set  a  mother 
right,  to  uphold  her  authority  in  the  eyes  of  her  child  !  " 

Forgetful  that  she  had  cautioned  him  against  exciting  the 
sick  babe,  not  two  minutes  before,  she  observed,  with  envy 
that  was  not  far  removed  from  savageness,  the  pair  in  their 
turns  thi'ough  the  room ;  the  feeble  hand  still  intertwined  in 
the  raven  hair,  and  the  weary  head  sinking  lower  and  lower 
toward  the  father's  shoulder,  until  it  lay  there  in  motionless 
glumber.  Sydney  continued  his  walk  and  the  low  murmur 
of  his  lullaby  until  the  picture-book  slipped  from  the  nerve- 
less fingers  to  the  floor  ;  then  he  halted  in  front  of  his  wife 
with  a  happy,  satisfied  smile. 


287 

"  Papa  is  not  a  bad  nurse,  after  all,  is  he  ?  Shall  I  lay 
her  in  her  crib,  or  do  you  wish  to  hold  her  ?  " 

"  She  will  rest  more  quietly  in  her  crib.  It  spoils  a  child 
to  hold  it  upon  the  lap  after  it  is  once  fairly  asleep,"  an- 
swered Kate,  frigidly;  and  Sydney  felt  rebuked  for  having 
eiffered  the  precious  head  to  lie  upon  his  shoulder  one  in- 
stant after  the  golden  lashes  had  fallen  together. 

Without  offering  to  touch  the  sleeper,  Kate  smoothed  the 
sheet  and  warmed  the  pillow,  and  motioned  her  husband 
to  lay  his  burden  there.  Then  she  turned  away,  leaving  to 
him  the  task  of  covering  the  child. 

"  My  beautiful  angel !  "  said  the  fond  father,  kissing  the 
sunny  curls  floating  over  the  pillow.  "  She  grows  more 
lovely  each  day  —  does  she  not  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  very  pretty  child  !  "  without  a  look  toward  her. 

Sydney's  task  of  love  being  accomplished,  he  came  to  the 
back  of  his  wife's  chair,  and  rested  one  arm  upon  it,  watch- 
ing her  darting  needle  and  the  work  that  grew  under  it. 

"  That  is  very  handsome  !     Is  it  for  yourself?  " 

"  No  ;  for  Lulu." 

He  said  no  more,  when  she  did  not  offer  to  unfold  the 
pattern  for  his  further  admiration.  One  might  have  fancied 
him  abstracted,  but  his  thoughts  did  not  wander  beyond 
the  silent  figure  before  him.  These  reveiies  had  become 
habitual  to  him  when  she  was  indisposed  to  converse.  Her 
moods  were  often  less  than  inviting;  seldom  so  repellent 
as  that  which  now  possessed  her.  She  had  not,  however, 
concealed  her  feelings  so  adroitly  that  he  had  not  gathered 
from  her  demeanor  and  chance  utterances  that  her  married 
life  had  proved  to  her  a  bitter  disappointment.  This,  a 
humiliating  discovery  to  any  husband,  is  pregnant  with 
keenest  mortification  and  sorrow  to  those  who  have  loved 
most  truly,  striven  most  faithfully,  to  bring  about  a  contrary 
result.  He  had  not  succeeded  in  making  her  happy, 


ardently  as  lie  had  hoped  to  do  this.  Yet  how  hard  and 
how  long  he  had  tried  to  meet  her  eveiy  wish,  to  ward  off 
care  !  Not  that  he  had  any  just  cause  for  complaint.  She 
had  consulted  his  tastes  and  comfort  in  every  arrangement 
of  her  household ;  been  a  true  wife  to  him  in  sickness  and 
in  health;  winning  daily  upon  his  regard  by  her  womanly 
virtues,  the  graces  of  her  mind  and  person,  her  steadiness 
oi  purpose  in  all  worthy  enterprises,  her  avoidance  of  all 
that  was  mean  and  base.  He  loved  her  with  a  depth  and" 
sincerity  which  twas  a  higher  tribute  to  her  character  than 
had  been  the  more  demonstrative  passion  of  the  honeymoon. 
She  seldom  encouraged  him  to  express  this  in  words,  and 
the  pain  of  repression,  at  first  so  new  and  sharp,  had  settled 
into  a  dull  aching  that  never  left  him. 

It  had  made  a  different  man  of  him  than  the  buoyant, 
Bunny-tempered  Sydney  Bentley,  who,  people  used  to  say, 
was  born  to  good  fortune,  it  appeared  to  come  to  him  so- 
naturally,  and  he  was  so  well  suited  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
bounties  showered  upon  him  by  nature -and  circumstance. 
Trouble  went  hardly  with  him,  especially  the  pangs  of 
grieved  affection;  but,  in  the  strength  of  his  love  for  her,  it 
was  easier  to  endure  these  and  make  no  sign,  than  to  see 
his  wife  droop  with  mysterious  sadness,  or  unexpressed 
desire,  and  not  dare  ask  why  she  mourned. 

"Dare!"  That  was  just  it!  He  stood,  with  bound 
hands  and  sealed  lips,  and  saw  the  distance  between  them 
grow  wider  and  wider.  Her  will  was  not  to  be  questioned, 
and  that  will  was  an  impassable  barrier  to  his  inclination  to 
search  out  the  reason  for  their  growing  estrangement,  his 
longing  to  restore  matters  to  their  old  footing.  Her  lightest 
wish  was  his  law,  and  she  knew  her  power.  He  feared  her 
frown  more  than  the  reprobation  of  the  whole  world  beside, 
and  she  knew  that  too. 

It  was  impossible  to  brood  upon  these  things  and  not 


289 


grovr  restless  under  the  yoke,  let  her  who  imposed  it  be 
never  so  dear.  He  caught  himself  wishing,  in  a  vague,  sad 
way,  that  she  were  less  rigid  in  her  ideas  of  right  and 
wrong ;  less  scrupulous  in  her  performance  of  what  she  held 
to  be  duty,  in  its  remotest  particulars ;  wishing,  in  bi  ief,  that 
she  were  more  like  other  women,  or  he  better  suited  to  her 
needs.  She  had  left  him  behind,  —  so  he  excused  the  tinct- 
ure of  disloyalty  in  this  thought ;  —  outstripped  him  so  far 
in  the  march  toward  excellence  that  he  could  not  hope  to  as- 
pire to  her  level,  and  he  felt  lonely.  He  had  never,  until 
this  hour,  allowed  the  shadow  of  a  reflection  upon  her  con- 
duct to  enter  his  mind,  but  he  was  weary  with  disappoint- 
ment and  chilling  failures.  His  nature  craved 

"  A  creature  not  too  bright  and  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food." 

He  was  tired  of  making  all  the  advances  and  receiving  all 
the  repulses. 

Kate  looked  hastily  up  at  his  heavy  sigh.  Her  eyes  were 
full  of  tears,  and  the  unguarded  movement  ddshed  one  over 
the  brimming  lids.  She  averted  her  head,  as  she  felt  it  upon 
her  cheek. 

"I  am  a  pitiful  fool!"  said  Sydney,  inwardly.  "But 
I'll  be  hanged  if  I  can  stand  that !  I'll  risk  annihilation 
first !  stake  all  upon  one  chance  !  "  He  knelt  down  by  her 
side  and  wound  his  arms  about  her.  "  Kate,  love  !  my  pre- 
cious wife !  What  is  this  nameless,  terrible  sorrow  that  is 
killing  us  both  ?  What  have  I  ever  said  or  done  to  wound 
you  so  deeply  that  for  weeks  and  months  together  I  am 
never  blessed  with  a  real  heart-smile,  a  voluntary  word  of 
love  ?  Upon  my  knees  I  pray  for  a  return  to  the  dear, 
early  days  of  our  love.  ,If  tears  came  quickly  then,  smiles 
were  more  ready  to  chase  these  away.  I  know  the  fault 
must  be  mine,  mine  alone ;  for  you  are  the  soul  of  goodness 
and  justice.  You  would  not  inflict  the  horrible  pain  I  have 
25 


290 


felt  in  the  dread  lest  I  might  have  forfeited  ycmr  love  and 
respect,  without  excellent  caiise  for  punishing  me.  Have  I 
not  done  penance  long  and  severe  enough  to  atone  for  my 
unintentional  wrong-doing?  And  I  so  love  and  worship 
you  ;  my  darling !  my  darling !  " 

He  would  not  let  her  go,  although  she  struggled  to  un- 
bind his  arms.  His  pleading  eyes,  misty  with  feeling,  gazed 
up  into  hers  ;  his  mouth  quivered  with  pain,  and  his  voice 
was  plaintive  as  a  child's. 

Kate  was  terribly  tempted.  Tempted  to  forget  his  weak- 
ness, his  laxity  of  principle,  his  manifold  deceptions  and 
misrepresentations,  his  deficiency  in  moral  heroism,  —  all 
the  blemishes  that  had  degraded  her  impossible  ideal  into 
the  very  human  and  therefore  very  fallible  man  ;  tempted  to 
bury  these  in  the  recollection  that  he  was  still  her  husband, 
whom  she  had  taken  "  for  better,  for  worse,"  in  a  compact 
naught  but  death  could  annul ;  tempted  to  cast  over  every  blot 
that  marred  her  present  conception  of  his  character,  the  veil 
of  pitying  -affection ;  to  cling  to  him  yet  more  truly  because 
of  the  frailties  that  begot  that  compassionate  tenderness,  and 
while  clinging,  strive  to  correct  the  faults  which  had 
wrought  his  debasement  in  her  esteem,  and  her  consequent 
misery.  Before  this  temptation,  whether  it  was  the  weak 
plea  of  a  woman's  too  partial  love,  or  the  instigation  of  her 
guardian  angel,  her  usually  firm  will  swayed  and  strained 
momentarily,  like  a  reed  before  a  rushing,  mighty  wind, 
then  stubbornness — she  hailed  it  as  rectitude  —  returned  to 
her  spirit. 

She  ceased  to  struggle.  Unmoved  in  aspect  and  calm 
intonation,  she  gazed  straight  into  the  mournful  eyes  that 
besought  her  clemency.  She  even  lifted  a  lock  that  Lad 
strayed  over  his  forehead,  and  laid  it  back,  but  it  was 
rather  the  action  of  a  mother  rectifying  a  chance  disorder 


"FOB  BETTEE,   FOE  WOESE."  291 

in  .the  appearance  of  a  grown-up  son,  than  the  toying  of  a 
wife  with  her  husband's  silky  hair. 

"  My  poor  Sydney  !  Are  you  then  unhappy,  too  ?  Dear, 
return  to  the  blind,  blissful  days  of  which  you  speak  is  im- 
possible. I  should  only  deceive  you  were  I  to  raise  hopes 
I  can  never  fulfil ;  were  I  to  lead  you  to  suppose  anything 
else.  With  me,  the  desire  has  failed  with  the  expectation. 
This  is  a  merciful  provision  of  nature.  When  we  have 
ceased  to  hope,  we  learn,  with  greater  or  less  ease,  to  curb 
our  wishes.  We  are  no  longer  boy  and  girl  lovers,  each 
believing  the  other  a  combination  of  angelic  perfections,  and 
life  to  be  made  tap  of  midsummer  holidays  like  our  wedding- 
day.  That  phase  of  our  joint  existence  has  passed.  It  is, 
hereafter,  to  be  remembered  as  '  the  tender  grace  of  a  day 
that  is  dead.'  You  know  that  can  never  come  back." 

She  paused.  Still  the  fixed  look  of  supplication;  still 
the  clasp  of  the  arms  that  bound  her  waist  like  bands  of 
steel. 

"  It  was  bitter  to  let  it  go,  dear  !  to  see  the  romance  fade, 
little  by  little,  one  ray  after  another,  out  of  one's  life.  But 
we  are  too  wise  to  waste  our  time  in  useless  lamentations 
over  the  irrevocable.  Let  us  accept  our  destiny  as  it  is', 
like  a  brave  man  and  a  submissive  woman.  Duty,  when 
rightly  pursued,  is  not  a  bad  substitute  for  hope." 

The  sad  eyes  lingered  upon  hers  with  one  last  look,  so 
earnest  and  penetrating,  she  feared  lest  it  had  read  her  soul 
to  its  depths  ;  then  closed,  —  a  quiet  fall  of  the  lids  that  sig- 
nalled to  her  apprehension  the  farewell  to  hope  she  advised. 
When  they  were  lifted,  the  mist  was  gone.  Dry  desola- 
tion, that  expected  and  asked  nothing,  was  there  in  its 
place. 

In  arising,  he  stooped  over  and  kissed  her.  "  Let  it  be 
as  you  wish.  I  woxild  not  force  your  love  and  confidence. 
Mine  can  never  change.  I  was  never  good  enough  for  you. 


292  "FOB  BET-TEE,  FOE  WOESE." 

T  warned  you,  long  ago,  that  you  would  some  day  discover 
this  for  yourself.  I  think  that  I  loved  you  well  enough  to 
have  made  myself  over  again,  if  you  would  have  liked  me 
better  for  the  change.  But  let  it  pass!  You  never  say 
what  you  do  not  mean,  and  you  say  that  it  is  too  late." 

Another  sentence,  and  her  rigid  self-possession  must  have 
given  way.  The  simple  dignity  of  his  acquiesence  in  her 
verdict ;  his  gallant  vindication  of  herself  from  all  blame  in 
their  estrangement,  wrought  more  powerfully  upon  her  de- 
termination than  oceans  of  tears  and  volumes  of  protesta- 
tions could  have  done.  The  sentence  was  not  spoken.  He 
laid  his  hand  upon  her  head,  in  blessing  or  as  a  token  of  for- 
giveness, if  he  had  aught  in  his  mind  of  which  other  men 
might  have  complained,  and  left  the  house. 

She  listened  until  the  echo  of  his  slow  footfall  died  away 
in  the  quiet  street ;  then  bent  her  forehead  upon  the  railing 
of  the  baby's  crib,  too  wretched  to  pray  or  to  think  connect- 
edly. 

"  I  have  cut  away  the  last  prop  that  stood  between  me 
and  utter  despair  ! "  she  murmured,  by  and  by.  "  But  it 
must  have  come  at  some  time.  As  well  now  as  later !  De- 
lay would  have  made  the  wrench  no  easier."  " 

During  Lulu's  illness,  her  mother  had  spent  many  nights 
upon  a  low  bed  in  the  chamber  adjoining  her  own,  and 
which  was  fitted  up  as  a  temporary  nursery.  The  child 
required  much  attention  at  night,  and  her  restlessness  and 
the  attendant  bustle  in  the  room  would  have  disturbed  the 
father's  slumbers  as  well  as  those  of  the  untiring  nurse. 

"  I  could  not  sleep  if  she  were  awake,"  Kate  had  replied 
to  her  husband's  entreaties  that  she  would  permit  liim  to 
relieve  her  protracted  vigils.  "It  is  unnecessary  that  two 
should  lose  their  rest,  when  one  can  do  all  that  is  needed  for 
her  comfort." 

Yet,  each  night,  Sydney  had  come  into  the  nursery  before 


"FOE  BETTEE,   FOE  WORSE."  293 

retiring,  with  minute  inquiries  as  to  the  health  of  th  e  little 
one  and  her  mother's  ability  to  sustain  the  fatigue  of  the 
approaching  watch,  and  not  left  them  until  Kate  had  lain 
down  and  Lulu  was  asleep. 

To-night,  he  came  home  at  the  usual  hour.  There  had 
been  an  undefined  dread  upon  the  wife's  spirits  until  she 
heard  the  click  of  his  key  in  the  outer  door,  that  she  might 
never  see  him  again;  that  his  solemn,  unspoken  leave-taking 
presaged  a  final  separation.  She  had  undressed  and  betaken 
her  aching  head  to  the  pillow,'  half  an  hour  earlier, —  a  freak 
of  pride  or  wilfulness,  which  she  deluded  herself  into  fancying 
was  a  judicious  measure  for  one  suffering  and  exhausted  as 
she  undoubtedly  was.  In  reality,  she  meant  that  he  should 
not  imagine  that  she  had  sat  up  for  him  or  expected  his 
accustomed  visit.  The  childish  folly  was  sufficiently -pun- 
ished by  the  agony  of  expectation  that  hearkened  to  every 
sound  from  the  adjacent  chamber;  to  Sydney's  slippered 
footstep  upon  the  carpet;  the  rattle  of  his  watch-chain,  as? 
he  laid  it  upon  the  marble  top  of  the  bureau ;  the  fall  of  a 
book  he  had  accidentally  struck  from  the  table ;  and  still  he 
did  not  approach  the  door  of  communication.  Finally,  the 
line  of  tight  beneath  this  went  out,  and  all  was  quiet.  F,pr 
the  first  time  since  their  marriage  day,  he  had  laid  himself 
down  to  rest  without  kissing  her  "  good-night." 

The  haggard  countenances  of  both,  when  they  met  in  the 
breakfast-room,  showed  that  their  rest  had  not  deserved  the 
name;  but  neither  alluded  to  the  conversation  of  the  previous 
evening.  They  talked  of  Lulu,  whose  fever  had  left  her- 
entirely,  and  whose  clearer  eyes  and  playful  tricks  they 
hailed  as  auguries  of  speedy  recovery;  of  the  weather;  the 
morning  news ;  of  everything  excepting  themselves.  There 
was  no  need  for  Kate  to  play  the  defensive,  now,  against  the 
loving  -demonstrations  and  inquiries  she  had  learned  to 
avoid  lest  they  should  beguile  her  into  openness  of  speech 
25* 


294:  "FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

and  corresponding  warmth.  Sydney's  tone  was  friendly,  kind, 
pleasant.  A  third  party  at  their  meal  would  have  decided 
that  there  was  nothing  to  conceal  on  either  side;  that  lie 
was  as  fond  as  are  a  majority  of  husbands;  a  trifle  more 
attentive  to  his  partner's  wants,  perhaps;  but,  that  he,  with 
his  lady-like  and  self-possessed  wife,  had  outlived  the  period 
of  wedded  sentimentalism.  And  nine  out  of  ten  people 
would  have  decided  that  their  behavior  was  eminently 
decorous,  pre-eminently  sensible,  and  quoted,  knowingly,  the 
hackneyed  saying  setting  fovtk  the  interesting  character  of 
love  talk  and  love  scenes  to  the  parties  engaged  in  it,  and 
their  exceeding  stupidity  to  the  beholders  thereof. 

"When  did  Miss  Lambert  say  that  she  would  be  here?" 
inquired  Kate,  in  pursuance  of  her  laudable  design  of  pre- 
venting awkward  breaks  in  their  chat. 

''  To  tea,  this  evening.  She  said  something  of  a  wish  to 
pay  you  a  visit  of  a  day  or  two,  but  I  did  not  encourage  the 
intimation.  I  mentioned  in  reply,  that  Lulu  occupied  much 
of  your  time." 

There  had  been  a  scarcely  perceptible  shadow  on  the 
wife's  brow,  as  the  proposed  visit  was  named,  a  knitting  of 
th£  forehead,  which  the  husband  knew  signified  dissatisfac- 
tion. It  had  vanished  when  the  concluding  clause  of  his 
remark  was  spoken. 

"Where  is  she  staying?  " 

"  With  her  sister,  Mrs.  Shenley." 

"She  has  been  in  St.  Louis  for  two  or  three  years,  has 
she  not?" 

"  She  has.  Her  eldest  brother  lives  there.  She  is  the 
youngest  of  a  large  family." 

"  Has  she  altered  much  since  you  last  saw  her?  " 

"  Hem-m-m !  No  ;  I  think  not.  She  looks  just  about 
the  same.  I  expected  that  she  would  have  married  at  the 


"  FOE   BETTER,   FOE   WOESE."  295 

West,  but  she  seems  to  be  in  no  hurry  to  resign  the  liberty 
she  evidently  enjoys," 

Et  cetera,  etc.,  etc.,  until  breakfast  was  over,  when  Sydney 
arose  from  the  table,  kissed  his  wife  formally;  took  up  his 
child  in  a  warm  embrace ;  inquired  if  there  were  anything 
he  could  do  for  the  pleasure  or  comfort  of  either  during  the 
day;  advised  Kate  to  leave  Lulu  with  the  nurae  long  enough 
to  take  a  walk  or  ride  herself  in  the  bracing  outer  air,  and 
went  off  to  his  office  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Their  divided 
life  had  fairly  begun. 


296  "FOE  BETTEK,  FOK  \VOKSE." 


CHAPTEK  TV. 

KATE  had  a  call  that  day,  at  noon,  from  Doctor  Russell. 
He  had  been  the  family  physician  and  personal  friend  of  the 
Bentleys  for  years,  and,  like  some  other  popular  practition- 
ers, was  a  bit  of  a  gossip. 

"  I  saw  Sydney  for  a  moment,  yesterday,  in  Moulin's 
saloon,"  he  said,  when  he  had  pronounced  his  little  patient 
decidedly  better.  "  He  was  discussing  a  capital  ice  in  capi- 
tal company  ;  namely,  with  Miss  Lambert.  I  had  not  seen 
her  before  in  an  age.  She  wears  wonderfully  well,  and 
looks  refreshed,  instead  of  blase,  after  her  Western  campaign. 
She  was  never  handsomer  than  on  yesterday.  I  stopped  to 
pay  my  respects  to  her,  and  to  corroborate  Sydney's  decla- 
ration that  our  small  lady  here  was  not  so  ill  as  to  render 
it  inexpedient  that  Miss  Lambert  should  accept  his  invita- 
tion to  visit  you." 

"He  told  me  that  your  report  was  encouraging,"  re- 
marked Kate,  quietly. 

The  doctor  was  very  scrupulous  in  whatever  had  the 
remotest  bearing  iipon  his  professional  reputation. 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that  I  had  very  little  to  say.  '  Doctor  ! '  he 
called,  as  I  was  passing,  '  are  you  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  do 
me  a  good  turn?'  I  answered  that  I  was  at  his  service. 
*  Then  please  certify  to  Miss  Lambert  that  my  little  Lulu  is 
not  too  sick  for  us— Mrs.  Beutley  and  myself — to  enjoy 
the  society  of  our  old  friend.  I  have  been  begging  her,  for 
half  an  hour,  to  gladden  our  sombre  dwelling  by  the  sun- 


"  FOE   BETTER,   FOK   WORSE."  297 

shine  of  her  presence,  but  she  is  ol)durate.'  The  sly  rascal 
remembered,  you  see,  that  flattery  was  the  belle's  natural 
aliment !  I  merely  replied  that  I  did  not  consider  the 
child  dangerously  ill,  although,  to  be  candid,  I  did  not  like 
the  constant  recurrence  of  the  febrile  symptoms.  They  are 
rare  in  convalesence  from  such  an  attack  as  she  has  had,  I 
am  more  rejoiced  than  I  can  express  to  you,  my  dear 
madam,  to  observe  their  abatement  to-day.  Good-morning  ! 
I  shall  do  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  while  Miss  Lambert 
is  with  you." 

"Mamma,  mamma!"  repeated  Lulu,  impatiently,  tug- 
ging at  her  mother's  sleeve,  ten  minutes  after  the  man  of 
medicine  and  news  had  made  his  smiling  bow ;  "  Lulu 
wants  a  drink  !  " 

Kate  put  the  goblet  to  her  lips  with  a  dreamy,  preoc- 
cupied air.  She  smiled  in  replacing  it  upon  the  stand  —  a 
gloomily  sarcastic  curl  of  the  mobile  mouth  one  would  not 
care  to  see  twice  upon  a  woman's  face. 

"Lulu  must  lie  still  awhile,  now.  Mamma  has  a  letter 
to  write,"  she  said,  giving  the  little  one  her  new  picture- 
book. 

She  sat  down  at  her  desk  and  dashed  off  the  following 
note  to  Anna  Bentley :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  SISTER,  —  Sydney  met  Rita  Lambert  yester- 
day, and  invited  her  to  take  tea  with  us  this  evening.  She 
objected  to  making  a  longer  visit  on  account  of  Lulu's  sick- 
ness. Can  you  see  her  during  the  forenoon,  and  ask  her,  in 
my  name,  to  pass  a  week  with  us  ?  And  cannot  you  spare 
as  much  of  your  valuable  time  to  her  and  to  us  ?  Lulu  is 
very  much  better,  but  I  cannot  as  yet  leave  her  entirely  to 
the  care  of  her  nurse.  Meanwhile  I  am  poor  company  for 
Sydney.  He  needs'enlivenment,  and  I  know  no  two  peo- 
ple who  could  cheer  him  up  more  effectually  than  his  pet 


298 


sister  and  his  old  favorite  Eita.  Please  say  to  Miss  Lam- 
bert how  earnestly  I  desire  her  compliance  with  my  peti- 
tion ;  also,  that  I  would  give  my  invitation  in  person,  were, 
it  not  that  my  convalescent  is  exacting  of  mamma's  notice 
to-day.  Come  early,  and  let  me  know  at  what  hour  1  may 
send  for  your  trunk.  Love  to  mamma  and  Eli/a.  They 
must  spare  you  to  me  for  a  few  days.  It  has  been  a  long 
while  since  I  had  a  real,  visit  from  you. 
"  Affectionately, 

"  KATE  BENTLEY." 

Sydney  walked  heavily  up  the  steps  of  his  own  dwelling 
that  evening.  Kate  might  have  thought  her  heroics  thrown 
away  had  she  known  how  completely  the  recollection  of 
Rita's  proposed  visit  had  escaped  his  memory,  He  had 
encountered  her  upon  the  threshold  of  the  confectioner's 
saloon ;  they  had  eaten  their  ices  together,  and,  partly 
because  it  was  natural  and  easy  for  him  to  say  things  agree- 
able to  his  listeners,  partly  because  he  was  honestly  pleased 
at  meeting  an  old  aquaintance,  he  had  rattled  on  after  the 
fashion  of  his  bachelorhood,  brightly  and  thoughtlessly, 
with  no  prescient  warning  as  to  the  dragon's  teeth  he  was 
sowing. 

He  unlocked  the  front  door,  and  a  burst  of  merry  music 
greeted  his  ears,  ceasing  while  he  yet  stood  in  the  hall,  and 
succeeded  by  the  softer  and  more  joyous  sound  of  laughing 
voices.  Peeping  furtively  in  at  the  parlor  door,  he  saw 
Kate  seated  by  the  fire  with  Lulu  upon  her  lap,  Anna  kneel- 
ing upon  the  carpet  before  the  two,  playing  with  her  niece 
—  and,  towering  before  them  in  one  of  her  finest  poses,  ex- 
pressive of  tender  benignity  toward  mother,  babe,  and 
aunt,  was  Rita's  voluptuous  figure,  fuller,  and,  if  possible, 
more  instinct  with  seductive  grace  than  when  she  played  the 
willing  Chloe  to  his  Stephen  in  the  moonlighted  garden- 


299 


walks  and  piazzas  of  his  father's  country-house  seven  years 
ago. 

Few  women  liked  Rita  Lambert ;  because,  insinuated  the 
ungallant  stronger  sex,  it  was  considered  "  the  proper  thing  " 
for  most  men,  who  had  the  opportunity  offered  them,  to  go 
through  the  form  of  homage  at  the  shrine  of  her  overween- 
ing vanity.  At  twenty-six  years  of  age,  when  most  of  her 
contemporaries  were  beginning  to  lose  the  lustre  of  their 
early  charms,  she  had  bloomed  into  a  wanton  luxuriance  of 
beauty,  the  sight  of  which  purchased  for  her  no  increase 
of  favor  in  feminine  eyes,  while  the  men  went  into  madder 
ecstasies  than  ever  over  her  affluence  of  charms.  Up  to  this 
day,  Kate  had  never  been  jealous  of  Sydney's  admiration  for 
her.  R  was  too  openly  expressed,  and  avowedly  too  exclu- 
sively a  mere  pleasure  of  the  eye,  for  a  reasonable  wife  to 
fear.  Furthermore,  until  now  she  had  always  been  confi- 
dent in  the  strength  of  her  tenure  upon  her  husband's 
affections.  Distrust  his  other  protestations  though  she  did, 
when  he  declared  his  love  to  be  unchangeable  in  fervor  and 
hers  alone,  she  had  believed  him.  The  doctor's  good-natured 
loquacity .  had  set  a  germ  which  had  grown  faster  than 
Jonah's  gourd,  and  borne  fruit  more  poisonous  than  helle- 
bore. 

The  casual  meeting  in  the  street  had  been  a  prolonged 
interview  in  the  saloon  of  a  fashionable  confectioner  ;  Rita's 
proposal  to  visit  her,  a  hardly-wrung  consent  to  his  importu- 
nities that  she  would  lt  brighten  his  sombre  dwelling  by  the 
sunshine  of  her  presence ;"  the  doctor's  reassuring  statement 
of  the  child's  improvement  in  health,  a  trumped-up  story  to 
allay  her  maternal  fears  and  insure  his  favorite  a  longer 
stay  beneath  his  roof  than  would  be  compatible  with  pro- 
priety or  humanity,  were  the  mother,  meanwhile,  racked  by 
fears  for  the  life  of  her  babfi.  This  fresh  development  of  his 
duplicity  sent  her  thoughts  back  to  the  evening  on  which 


300  "FOE  BETTER,  FOE  WOESE." 

she  had  first  heard  Rita  Lambert's  name.  "His  formei 
flame,"  Eliza  had  styled  her. 

"I  believe  it  now!"  Kate  said  between  her  clenched 
teeth.  "  I  was  a  fool  not  to  see  and  believe  it  then  !" 

Close  upon  this  came  the  daring  resolution  to  invite  her 
to  the  house  and  watch  them  with  her  unsealed  eyes.  She 
had  begun  to  relent  in  her  purpose  of  treating  him  as  one 
who  had  forfeited  all  claim  to  her  confidence,  to  whom  she 
was  united  by  a  nominal,  because  a  merely  legal  tie ;  begun 
to  question  secretly  whether  it  were  indeed  possible  for  love 
to  outlive  respect.  Now,  Love  and  Pity  fled  affrighted 
before  the  beldame  Justice,  as  she  seized  the  scales  in  one 
hand,  the  rod  in  the  other.  To  secure  the  evidence  neces- 
sary to  convict  the  accused  man,  the  devotee  of  th*is  griin- 
browed  goddess  stooped  to  subterfuge  ;  wrote  a  letter,  every 
third  line  of  which  was  a  lie,  to  decoy  the  accomplice  into 
her  righteous  trap.  She  observed  the  meeeting  of  the  sus- 
pected pair  with  perceptions  sharpened  to  the  last  degree  of 
acuteness.  The  flash  and  glow  that  went  over  Rita's  blonde 
visage,  the  responsive  smile  upon  Sydney's  ;  the  clinging 
touch  of  the  hand ;  the  cordial  heartiness  of  his  verbal  wel- 
come to  his  home,  —  none  of  those  passed  unnoticed,  con- 
trasted as  they  were,  with  the  careless  familiarity  of  his 
greeting  to  Anna,  and  his  formal  address  to  herself  when  his 
devoirs  as  host  had  been  paid. 

The  passion  for  conquest  was  natural  with  Rita  as  was 
the  act  of  respiration.  Perhaps,  if  the  choice  had  been 
offered  her,  she  would  have  prefered  to  undertake  the  fasci- 
nation of  an  unmarried  man.  If  he  were  intensely  "  eligi- 
ble," there  was  always  the  ulterior  motive  of  securing  a 
settlement  in  life ;  but  such  chances  being  few,  she  as  often 
tried  her  skill  tipon  the  lawful  property  of  other  women  as 
upon  that  which,  as  yet,  belonged  to  nobody  in  particular, 
and  was,  therefore,  fair  game.  It  was  nothing  to  her,  and 


Cf  FOE   BETTEK,   FOR   WOESE."  301 

less  than  nothing,  that  she  occasionally  broke  a  simple  lov- 
ing heart  by  the  practice  of  her  diablerie.  If  she  bestowed 
more  than  a  passing  thought  upon  such  insignificant  inci- 
dents, it  was  to  congratulate  herself  that  one  of  the  "  demure 
kind,"  as  she  denominated  all  wives  who  were  content  with 
the  queendom  of  their  own  homes,  asked  for  no  loftier  niche 
in  the  world  than  the  highest  places  in  the  affections  of 
their  husbands  and  children,  —  "  the  hateful,  starched,  prim, 
over-good  sort," —  thus  Miss  Lambert's  set  wrote  these  down, 
— that  one  of  these,  the  coquette's  natural  enemies,  had, 
however  sorely  against  her  will,  been  compelled  to  lower 
her  spotless  crest  and  own  the  regal  flirt  her  conqueror. 
A  "pattern  wife"  is,  in  the  vocabulary  of  the  gay  sisterhood, 
a  more  'opprobrious  term  than  even  "  old  maid." 

Rita  had  come  nearer  to  breaking  her  heart,  or  whatever 
portion  of  her  frame  did  duty  for  that  usually  necessary 
organ,  for  love  of  handsome  Syd  Bentley,  in  his  bachelor- 
hood, than  she  had  ever  done  before  or  since.  He  had 
slighted  her,  as  she  imagined,  and  she  had  neither  forgiven 
nor  forgotten  the  affront.  It  is  superfluous  to  remark,  after 
adverting  to  this  fact  in  her  early  history,  that  her  aversion 
to  "  married  prudes  "  and  "  model  spouses,"  in  the  abstract, 
was  aggravated  into  rancor  in  this  instance  by  a  sense  of  de- 
feat and  a  hankering  after  revenge  upon  the  audacioxxs 
creature  occupying  the  place  she  had  selected  as  her  own. 
For  the  furtherance  of  this  pious  design,  she  could  not  have 
asked  a  fairer  opportunity  than  her  rival  had  afforded  her 
by  her  invitation  to  pass  a  week  in  the  society  of  her  cov- 
etoJ  victim. 

Anna  was  extravagantly  fond  of  children,  and  Lulu,  her 
only  niece,  was  her  greatest  pet.  When  Kate  moved  to 
carry  her  up  stairs,  after  supper,  the  doting  auntie  quai 
relied  with  her  for  the  privilege  of  playing  bearer  to  her  im- 
perious little  majesty,  and  gained  her  point,  transferring 


302  "FOK  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

the  light  burden  from  the  mother's  arms  to  her  own,  and 
bearing  her  off  in  triumph.  Kate  followed  to  undress  and 
put  the  child  to  bed.  The  two  dallied  over  the  operations 
of  disrobing  and  bathing  the  delighted  babe,  after  the 
fashion  of  all  child-lovers,  paying  the  inevitable  penalty 
in  enduring  the  sleepless  and  peevish  fit  that  succeeded  ^ 
the  untimely  frolic.  Finally  she  was  quiet  in  bed,  and 
nearly,  if  not  quite  asleep,  and  Anna  made  a  feint  of  with- 
drawal. 

Her  sister-in-law  stayed  her.  "  Leave  Rita  to  entertain 
Sydney  a  little  longer,"  she  said.  "  I  want  to  have  a  long 
talk  about  your  affairs.  I  have  hardly  had  a  chance  to  say 
a  word  to  you  for  a  month  past.  Sit  down  !  " 

Said  "  affairs  "  signifying  Anna's  recent  betrothal  to  "  one 
of  the  nicest  fellows  in  the  world,"  she  was  not  loath  to 
sink  to  the  low  seat  pointed  out,  rest  her  elbows  upon 
Kate's  knees,  and  enter  into  fullest  particulars  touching  the 
embryo  trousseau,  the  time  when  "  it "  would  probably 
"  come  off,  "  and  a  thousand  other  things  pertaining  to  the 
important  "  it." 

"  You  see,  Katie  dear,  there  is  no  peculiar  propriety  in  a 
long  engagement,"  said  the  frank  fiancee.  Ed  is  doing  a 
good  bxisiness,  and  we  have  known  each  other  for  years  and 
years.  I  wouldn't  marry  a  man  whom  I  did  not  know 
thoroughly  —  his  faults  as  well  as  his  virtues." 

"  You  are  right  there ! "  Kate  suppressed  a  sigh,  and 
meant  that  her  smile  should  be  encouraging ;  not  incredu- 
lous. Anna  was  not  renowned  for  keenness  of  spiritual 
perceptions,  and  she  prattled  on,  xinaware  of  anything  in  the 
expression  of  her  listener's  eye  or  face  that  should  have 
dampened  her  enthusiastic  happiness  or  cast  a  doubt  upon 
her  boasted*  familiarity  with  her  lover's  character.  Kate 
led  her  on,  seeming  to  hearken  with  a  show  of  affectionate 
interest,  while  her  ears  were  really  sensitive  only  to  sounds 


"FOE   BETTER,   FOK   WOESE."  303 

from  the  parlor  beneath,  the  subdued  hum  of  conversation, 
and,  by  and  by,  a  melancholy  prelude  upon  the  piano,  ex- 
quisitely played  ;  then  Rita's  voice,  cooingly  insinuative  in 
song,  as  in  conversation,  beginning  the  musical  phase  of  her 
campaign  in  the  ballad,  "  Sleeping,  I  dreamed,  Love." 
Sydney  did  not  sing  it  with  her  —  a  certain  token  to  his 
wife  that  his  had  been  the  selection  of  the  music.  She 
saw  him  clearly  as  with  her  bodily  vision,  standing  behind 
the  siren ;  his  head  bowed,  and  eyes  softened  to  languish- 
ing by  the  magic  strains  and  more  potent  witchery  of  the 
rendering.  He  used  thus  to  bend  and  listen  when  she  sang 
to  him  during  their  short,  happy  engagement,  which  they, 
like  Anna  and  her  lover,  saw  no  expediency  in  lengthen- 
ing beyond  the  earliest  convenient  limit. 

And  in  this  remembered  attitude  she  found  him,  when 
she  assented,  at  length,  to  Anna's  proposition  that  "  this 
was  a  very  selfish  enjoyment;  that  Rita  would  think  it 
queer,  and  Syd  scold  if  they  did  not  go-  down." 

Duets  and  trios  superseded  solos  when  the  rapt  couple  at 
the  instrument  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  late 
tenants  of  the  nursery.  Anna  liked  to  sing  with  her 
brother,  and  furnished  a  somewhat  feeble,  but  sweet  second 
to  Miss  Lambert's  spirited  soprano. 

"  Come,  Kate  !  "  said  her  husband,  the  frost  of  his  imper- 
fectly learned  reserve  melting  under  the  influence  of  his 
favorite  art,  "  Rita  is  not  familiar  with  this  song.  She  will 
play  the  accompaniment,  if  you  will  sing."  He  made  a 
motion  to  cross  the  room  and  lead  her  to  the  piano,  but  her 
coldly  civil  accents  stayed  his  advance. 

"  Please  excuse  me  !  I  am  both  weary  and  hoarse  to- 
night; I  came  to  hear,  not  help  make  music." 

She  sat  clown  by  the  centre-table  with  her  work,  and  the 
concert  proceeded.  It  appeared,  upon  a  cursory  examina- 
tion of  the  collection  upon  the  music-rack,  that  at  least  fifty 


304:  "FOR  BETTEK,  FOK  WOESE." 

new  and  "  divine"  pieces  of  music  were  lacking  "  to  complete 
such  an  assortment  as  you  two  should  have,  Mrs.  Bentley." 
This  from  the  siren,  directing  her  blandishments  Kateward. 

"If  I  could  sing  as  you  do,  and  could  always  command 
such  a  basso," —  beamingly  upon  Sydney, — "  I  am  afraid  that 
my  fate  would  be  that  of  the  weaker,  or  more  excitable 
thrush,  of  the  pair  celebrated  in  fable:  that  I  should  sing 
myself  to  death — pass  away  in  musical  breath." 

"  Euthanasia  I"  observed  Sydney,  smiling. 

He  was  pencilling  down  the  names  of  several  of  the  duets 
she  had  mentioned,  and  'did  not  see  the  countenance  of  the 
beauty.  Kate  did,  and  detecting  the  touch  of  embarrasment 
depicted  thereupon,  was  certain  that  she  did  not  comprehend 
the  answer  she  had  received. 

"  A  shallow,  superficial  parrot  I"  was  the  wife's  mental 
criticism.  "  Yet  he  admires  gloss  and  chatter.  All  men  do !  " 

She  did  justice,  however,  to  the  adroitness  with  which 
the  parrot  covered  her  ignorance. 

"  Anna,  dear !  "  with  girlish  eagerness,  catching  at  a  sheet 
the  other  was  turning  over,  "isn't  that  the  sweetest  of  all 
earthly  duets  —  the  one  we  used  to  be  forever  singing  in 
"lang  syne,"  dear  lost  " lang  syne?"  Let  me  have  it, 
please  1" 

She  warbled  a  measure  like  a  nightingale,  if  nightingales 
ever  have  contralto  voices  that  nothing  can'suprise  into 
shrillness. 

"  That  one  line  has  painted  a  whole  picture  for  me  !  I 
3an  see  the  mountains,  dark  with  evergreens ;  the  flash  of 
the  silver  rivers  down  the  valley;  the  tree-shadows  upon 
the  lawn,  and  the  glitter  of  the  moonbeams  upon  the  dewy 
grass;  just  as  they  looked  on  that  never-to-be-forgotten 
summer.  Heigho  !  put  it  away,  my  darling,  or  I  shall  grow 
romantic.  Ladies  of  an  uncertain  age  should  rise  superioi 
to  sentimental  reminiscences !" 


"  FOE  BETTEE,   FOE   WOESE."  305 

Before  any  one  could  remark  upon  this  pensive  passage  in 
talk  that  was  usually  lively  to  gayety,  the  keys  tinkled  under 
her  fingers  like  a  concert  of  fairy  guitars,  and  she  broke  into 
a  charming  little  serenade  :  — 

"When  the  Balaika 

la  heard  o'er  the  eea, 
Til  dance  the  Romaika, 
Sweet  love,  with  thee  I " 

"  Sydney !  "  She  did  not  correct  the  appellation  by 
(( Mr.  Bentley,"  in  the  seeming  fbrgetfulness  of  her  present 
surroundings  into  which  she  was  prone  to  lapse,  on  this 
evening.  "  Sydney  !  do  you  recollect  that  glorious  night  on 
the  sea-shore,  when  we  waltzed  on  the  sand,  and  how  after 
the  dance  was  over,  you  caught  up  a  guitar  belonging  to  one 
of  the  party,  and  sang  the  '  Romaika '  ?  It  is  strange  what 
a  charm  such  memories  have  -for  me  ! " 

Kate  —  unsmiling  and  taciturn  —  apparently  absorbed  in 
her  sewing,  contributing  nothing  to  the  general  fund  of  en- 
joyment,— the  type  of  a  rigid  task-mistress,  who  spared  her- 
self no  more  than  she  did  others.  Beyond  the.  centre-table, 
with  its  shaded  burner,  the  blonde  enchantress,  all  bloom 
and  radiance  —  steeped  in  the  mellow  lustre  shed  down  from 
the  brackets  on  either  side  of  the  piano  —  herself  the  incar- 
nation of  light  and  warmth ;  ready  to  reflect  his  smile,  or 
echo  his  sigh ;  to  sing  him  into  transient  oblivion  of  pain, 
or  to  sympathize  sweetly  in  what  'she  but  vaguely  guessed 
from  the  shadow  that  overcast  his  eyes  when  a  break  occurred 
in  her  pleasing  flow  of  words,  spoken  and  sung.  Sydney, 
too,  had  liis  pictures  to  study  that  evening,  and  he  was  a 
man, —  very  man,  moreover;  one  who  liked  sunshine  and 
ease,  and  shuddered  at  gloom,  let  it  overshadow  either  body 
or  spirit.  Nobody  knew  his  idiosyncrasies  better  than  did 
his  wife,  but  she  did  not  bestir  herself  to  render  less  painful 


306 


the  "contrast  presented  for  his  inspection  by  the  two  figures 
we  have  drawn. 

With  persistency  and  system  she  would  have  condemned 
as  malignant  in  another,  she  carried  out  the  programme  she 
had  arranged  for  this  decisive  week.  She  withdrew  into 
the  background  whenever  her  husband  appeared  in  parlor 
or  library,  and  granted  Rita  every  accessory  to  her  beauty 
and  wiles  the  exacting  flirt  could  have  desired,  had  her 
wish  been  law.  So  utterly  indifferent  did  Mrs.  Bentley 
appear  to  the  progress  of  the  renewed  intimacy  that,  Circe 
sometimes  eyed  her  in  wonderment  and  suspicion.  Was  the 
woman  a  born  fool,  or  was  she  wrapped  in  a  fatal  lethargy 
by  mistaken  confidence  in  the  strength  of.  her  hold  upon 
her  handsome  lord,  while  he  was  being  drawn  nearer  and 
nearer  the  uncertain  and  slippery  verge  where  society  — 
that  despicable  despot  whom,  nevertheless,  no  one  except 
a  downright  madman  ever  yet  did  despise  —  declares  inno- 
cent flirtation  to  end  and  crime  to  begin?  Kita's  delicate 
foot  had  trodden  sufficiently  close  to  the  piecipice  in  bygone 
days  for  her  to  understand  perfectly  what  were  her  bearings 
now.  She  had  also  drawn  others  far  into  danger ;  witnessed 
their  feeble  struggles  and  subsequent  recklessness,  and  she 
believed  the  tempting  prey  she  now  sought  to  ensnare  was 
safe  in  her  silken  toils.  But  she  had  never  before  had 
assistance  in  this  pretty  and  most  Christian  sport  from  such 
a  quarter. 

"  Positively  she  has  not  only  resigned  him  to  me,  but 
she  pushes  him  into  my  very  grasp !  "  muttered  the  tempt- 
ress, as  she  surveyed  her  finished  toilet  in  the  mirror 'in  her 
chamber  on  the  last  evening  of  her  stay  in  the  hospitable 
mansion.  "Can  she  hold  her  treasure  cheaply?  Has  she 
found  him  too  '  costly '  for  every-day  wear  ?  " 

She  was  not  choice  in  her  language  when  soliloquizing; 
coarse-minded  people  seldom  are;  and  what  professional 


"FOR  BETTEE,   FOE   WOESE."  307 

flirt,  especially  if  she  be  a  woman,  is  not  coarse  in 
grain  ? 

Anna  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  take  tea  with  "Ed's" 
parents,  who  were,  according  to  her,  like  their  son,  "the 
nicest  people  in  the  world,"  and  Rita  contemplated  com 
placently  the  prospect  of  a  tete  a  tete  which  should  accrue 
to  her  profit  and  pleasure. 

"  He  shall  commit  himself,  even  though  no  ponitive 
advantage  can  result  from  commital  now.  But  it  \v  ill  ba 
a  consolation  to  hear  from  his  own  lips  that  I  have  conquered 
—  that  he  laments  me.  Better  late  than  never,  and  half 
a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread.  If  I  had  done  my  work  as 
well  seven  years  ago,  his  destiny  and  mine  would  have  worn 
a  very  different  aspect.  But  I  was  a  green  girl  then — im- 
pulsive and  over-anxious.  I  have  always  been  haunted 
by  the  idea  that  he  saw  the  hook  under  the  bait.  So  much 
the  greater  the  victory  now  !  " 

She  descended  to  the  parlor,  her  shining  silk  trailing  and 
rustling  down  the  stairs  like  the  supple  coils  of  a  real  serpent. 
The  apartment  was  empty  of  human  occupant ;  but  Psyche, 
Sydney's  tiny  King  Charles  spaniel,  lay  coiled  up,  a  flossy 
ball,  upon  a  cushion  before  the  blazing  grate.  Rita  sat  down 
upon  the  carpet  beside  her,  her  sheeny  robes  spread  widely, 
and  giving  back  the  fire-rays  from  a  hundred  folds.  Leap- 
ing sparks  of  prismatic  hues  betrayed  the  diamond-cluster 
below  her  white  throat;  the  steadier  glow  of  the  opal  upon 
her  finger  suggested  the  beautiful  oriental  description  of  the 
gem,  —  "a  pearl  with  a  soul  imprisioned  in  it.  "  There  were 
tuberoses  in  her  hair  and  belt,  and  the  room  was  soon  filled 
with  the  powerful,  yet  languorous  oder.  Psyche  raised  her 
curly  head  and  winked  her  black  eyes  very  fast  and  hard 
at  the  dazzling  apparition  that  had  disturbed  her  nap.  But 
»,t  the  gentle,  monotonous  play  of  the  jewelled  hand  over 
her  silky  coat,  slumber  resumed  its  sway,  and  she  sank  anew 


308  "  FOR   BETTER,   FOR   WORSE." 

into  her  drowsy  paradise.  Rita  did  not  like  children, 
although  she  could  go  into  ecstasies,  over  what  she 
called,  behind  their  parents'  backs,  "nursery  furniture." 
If  mamma  or  papa  were  worth  winning,  she  "  did  "  petting, 
including  baby-talk,  gracefully  as  she  captivated  husbands 
and  made  mortal  enemies  of  wives.  But  the  genus  baby 
wasr  to  her  a  disagreeable  animal,  to  be  shunned  whenever 
policy  permitted  such  avoidance.  Of  dogs  and  horses  she 
w^as  really  fond.  Had  Lulu  and  Psyche  fallen  into  the  fire 
together,  and  the  choice  been  offered  her  of  saving  one  of 
the  two,  I  am  afraid  she  would  have  dragged  out  the  spaniel 
withoiit  a  moment's  hesitation.  It  was  not  in  her  nature  to 
be  cruel  to  dumb  things,  she  was  wont  to  say,  with  osten- 
tatious tenderness.  Perhaps  Nero  might  have  murmured 
a  similar  sentiment  over  his  basket  of  pet  puppies,  while  his 
pleasure-gardens  were  lurid  with  the  flames  fed  by  burning 
martyrs. 

Waiting  there  in  the  scarlet  fire-light,  —  she  was  a  very 
East  Indian  in  her  love  of  heat, —  Rita  began  to  croon  a  love- 
sick trifle  that  had  yet  in  it  a  wild  pathos  which  commended 
it  to  the  ear  and  heart  of  the  listener : 

"My  soul,  in  one  unbroken  sigh, 

Breathes  forth  its  love  for  thee ; 
More  fond  than  parent's  love  for  child 
Or  bird's  for  mate  on  tree. 

For  thee  I  for  only  thee  1 " 

She  repeated  the  refrain  over  and  over,  just  above  her 
breath,  a  sound  hardly  louder  than  the  crackle  and  sigh  of 
the  kindling  sea-coal  upon  the  hearth,  but  it  drowned  the 
noise  of  Sydney's  entrance.  He  was  close  beside  her  before 
she  betrayed  the  slightest  suspicion  of  his  presence. 

"  Alone  ?  "  he  said,  playfully.  "  And  '  most  musical,  most 
melancholy ! '  Don't  rise !  You  look  comfortable  and 
picturesque  as  you  are  1  "  He  took  for  himself  a  low 


"FOE   BETTER,   FOR  WORSE."          -  309 

tanseuse  she  liacl  designedly  left  at  her  right  hand,  yet  fair 
enough  forward  for  her  to  see  him  without  changing  an 
attitude  she  knew  could  not  be  improved. 

"  You  came  in  so  softly  that  I  should  have  believed  you  a 
vision  of  my  waking  dream,  had  you  not  spoken,"  she  said, 
naively. 

If  he-  recognized  the  implication  that  his  image  had  played 
a  prominent  part  in  her  reverie,  he  neither  said  nor  looked 
as  much.  Indeed,  he  seemed  inclined  to  lead  her  away 
from  the  subject  of  her  sentimentalizings  over  the  embers. 

"  Where  is  Anna  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Gone  to  take  tea  with  the  Warrens,  like  a  dutiful 
daughter-in-law  elect." 

"And  Kate?" 

"t  Up-stairs,  I.  fancy.     I  have  not  seen  her  since  dinner." 

"  You  have  been  lonely,  I  am  afraid. " 

"  A  little  blue ;  that  is  all !  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
confess  it,  I  suppose.  But  I  have  had  a  happy  week,  and 
it  is  over  !  " 

"  Make  it  a  fortnight !  "  suggested  the  host,  readily. 

"  Why  should  I !  That  would  be  gone  more  quickly  than 
a  day  has  often  passed  for  me,  in  other  circumstances,  and 
I  should  be  as  reluctant  to  go  at  the  end  of  the  time  as  I 
am  to-night.  All  the  sweets  of  life  fly  from  me  before  I 
have  fairly  tasted  them.  I  should  be  willing  to  die  the  next 
moment  if  I  could  quaff  one  perfect  draught  of  bliss — just 
one!" 

"You  would  find  it  evanescent  as  the  rest  of  human 
delights. " 

"  Maybe  so ;  but  it  would  be  worth  the  trouble  of  living 
twenty,  thirty  —  yes,  forty  years,  to  enjoy  one  such 
second !  " 

"  The  trouble  of  living !  "  repeated  Sydney,  as  he  might 


310  "FOB  BETTER,  FOE  WOKSE." 

reason  with  a  pouting  child.  "  What  cause  of  complaint 
have  you  against  Fate,  I  wonder !  " 

"  What  is  your  quarrel  with  her  ?  "  she  retorted,  instantly, 
directing  a  keen,  upward  look  at  his  face. 

He  changed  countenance  and  color,  and  hastily  evaded 
the  thrust.  A  phrase  of  thoughtless  gallantry  came  most 
easily  to  his  tongue.  "  Let  me  see  your  eyes  again,  Rita ! 
Do  you  know  that  they  are  opalline,  to-night  ?  They  match 
yoitr  ring  in  lustre  and  in  the  fire  that  glimmers  far  down 
within  them." 

She  did  as  he  bade  her.  But  the  fire  was  nearer  the  sur- 
face, now.  It  deepened,  and  spread  into  passionate  expres- 
sion until  he  grew  dizzy  and  breathless  with  gazing,  yet  held 
by  some  mystic  magnetism  of  the  senses  or  will,*he  could  not 
withdraw  that  gaze.  The  woman's  whole  frame  was  vivified 
by  the  electric  flame.  The  mouth  trembled,  while  it  smiled ; 
the  hands,  that  had  lain  crossed  upon  her  lap  until  now, 
were  clasped  and  slightly  lifted  in  a  gesture  of  marvellous 
grace  ;  her  chest  heaved  high  and  quickly  ;  she  was  as  lovely 
as  angels  ever  are,  or  as  fiends  would  appear  when  they  steal 
angelic  guise. 

Suddenly,  when'  the  pantomime  was  at  the  height  of  its 
beauty,  a  flood  of  softness  rushed  up,  dimming  the  unholy 
fire. 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  cried,  vehemently.  "  They  are  not  opals. 
They  are  said  to  have  the  power  of  winning  and  keeping 
love  for  the  possessor.  Who  loves  me?  Who  ever  loved 
me  long  ?  I  am  the  idol  of  an  hour  !  the  spoiled  plaything 
of  a  day !  the  selfish  diversion  of  a  week  !  And  in  my  fresh, 
happy  girlhood,  I  dreamed  of  such  different  things  !  I  have 
been  burying  broken  hopes  all  my  life  long !  " 

She  dropped  her  head  upSn  his  knee  and  sobbed  aloud. 
When  he  slipped  his  hand  beneath  her  forehead  to  raise  it, 
he  felt  the  hot  tears  upon  his  fingers. 


311 


"  Rita,  dear  child  !  This  distress  is  the  morbid  fancy  of  a 
sad  moment ! "  commenced  Sydney,  making  a  tremendous 
effort  to  confine  his  consolations  within  the  limits  of  broth- 
erly kindness. 

"Yes,  I  have  always  felt  that  you  believed  me  shallow- 
Learted  —  incapable  of  deep  feeling !  "  she  interposed  sharply, 
but  it  sounded  like  a  cry  of  pain,  not  of  temper. 

"You  are  mistaken!  I,  with  many  others  of  your 
friends,  do  credit  to  your  depth  and  warmth  of  feeling." 

"  Friends !  Don't  mock  me  by  using*  that  word !  "  she 
broke  in  again,  her  face  kindling  into  an  angrier  illumination. 
"  Don't  drive  me  to  desperation,  Sydney,  or  I  shall  say  that 
which  you  ought  not  to  hear  —  which  I  shall  wish  to-mor- 
row I  had  clied  sooner  than  said  !  Forgive  me  !  I  do  not 
know  what  I  am  doing  or  saying  !  But  I  am  so  sad-hearted 
and  lonely.  For  years,  my  existence  has  been  one  long 
disappointment.  And  I  have  fancied  that  you  were  not 
happy.  I  hoped  you  would  sympathize  with  me,  or,  at 
least,  respect  my  sorrow.  I  will  be  stronger  now.  I  could 
not  bear  your  contempt !  " 

She  uttered  the  incoherent  sentences  with  a  feverish 
rapidity  that  bewildered  Sydney  more  and  more. 

"  My  dear  girl !  IIow  wildly  you  talk  !  My  contempt ! 
We  have  known  and  loved  each  other  too  long  for  that 
thought  to  trouble  you" 

"Ah!" 

The  sigh  sounded  as  if  it  had  torn  through  the  heart 
before  reaching  the  lips,  and  ere  he  could  anticipate  her 
intention,  the  beautiful  head  lay  upon  his  shoulder,  so  near 
his  cheek  that  her  wama  breath  fanned  it.  He  did  not 
dirink  from  her.  Few  men  would  have  experienced  an 
instant  impulse  to  rid  themselves  of  a  burden  so  lovely. 
But  he  withheld  the  caress  she  evidently  expected.  The 
eloquent  wordless  appeal  elicited  no  passionate  response. 


312 


Whether  or  not  she  would  have  resorted  to  other  wiles  or 
reproached  him  for  his  insensibility,  was  not  to  be  proved. 
The  sliding  doors  of  the  adjoining  library  rolled  soundlessly 
back,  and,  chancing  to  glance  in  that  direction,  Sydney  saw 
his  wife  standing  in  the  archway  surveying  the  group  upon 
the  rug. 

With  the  force  imparted  by  a  great  horror,  as  one  leaps 
to  his  feet  in  a  nightmare,  he  threw  off  the  beauteous,  yet 
hateful  thing  that  had  crept  into  his  bosom.  She  had 
changed  into  a  spotted,  venomous  serpent,  when  contrasted 
with  the  embodiment  of  pure  womanliness  he  had  ever  held 
his  wife  to  be.  A  second  look  at  the  doors  showed  him  the 
empty  arch.  The  warning  apparition  had  disappeared 
silently  as  it  had  come. 

Klta  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  Nearly  crushing  poor  Psyche, 
who,  rudely  aroused  from  her  bed  of  ease,  limped,  yelping, 
from  the  scene  of  action. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  what  was  it?"  gasped  Rita,  strug- 
gling to  regain  her  footing,  and  approaching  Sydney,  as  he 
leaned  upon  the  mantel,  his  hands  pressing  his  temples. 

He  groaned  and  shuddered  at  her  touch  — a  gesture  of 
aversion  which  she  mistook  for  suffering. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?  What  startled  you  ?  Were  you  stung, 
or  hurt  ?  " 

"  Stung !  Yes,  fatally !  Hurt  to  the  heart !  My  wife 
was  standing  over  there,  girl !  Sh'e  saw  and  heard  us  !  " 

At  which  appalling  announcement  Rita  laughed  aloud. 
«  Is  that  all  ?  Well !  what  of  it  ?  " 

"What  of  it?  It  means  that  I  am  ruined  —  undone  — 
wretched  for  Time,  and,  for  aught  I  can  tell,  for  Eternity  !  " 

"  Don't  you  believe  it !  Heroics  might  deceive  anothci 
woman,  but  between  us  there  need  be  no  disguises  on  this 
head.  Do  you  take  me  for  an  idiot,  Sydney  Bentley  ?  Do 


313 


you  imagine  that  I  have  not  seen  from  the  first  month  of 
four  marriage  —  ay !  from  the  very  moment  I  first  saw 
f ou  together  —  that  you  were  pitifully  mismatched  ?  that  it 
was  impossible  she  should  ever  content  you  ?  She  is  a  cold- 
hearted  automaton,  loving  her  husband  just  as  much  as  the 
law  and  the  gospel  tell  her  to  do." 

"  Not  another  word !  Do  you  know  that  you  are  speak- 
ing to  me  of  my  wife?"  The  movement  and  tone  of 
command  restored  something  like  dignity  to  the  abject 
figure.  "  She  is  a  good,  pure,  noble  woman,  whom  1  love  ! 
You  are  not  worthy  to  loose  the  latchet  of  her  shoe  —  to 
kiss  the  hem  of  her  garment  —  while  I "  —  He  turned  away. 

Rita  remained  where  he  had  left  her,  while  he  paced  the 
room  in  extreme  agitation.  She,  too,  was  wounded  to  the 
quick,  but  she  would  not  lower  her  colors.  There  was  a 
spice  of  dare-devil  in  her  composition  at  all  times.  It  was 
rampant  now,  and  her  smile  was  dangerous,  as  she  watched 
the  restless  figure  striding  over  the  carpet. 

"  Brazen  it  out ! "  she.  said,  sententiously,  seeing  he 
showed  no  inclination  to  return  to  her  side. 

"  I  can  never  meet  her  eye  again  !  "  was  the  reply. 

Coming  up  close  to  her,  he  asked,  between  his  set  teeth, 
with  a  sinister  gleam  in  his  eye  that  had  in  it  more  of  hate 
than  any  other  emotion,  which  assuredly  resembled  love 
least  of  all, — 

"  If  I  leave  this  country  to-morrow  for  Europe  will  you 
go  with  me  ?  Dare  you  stay  here  after  this  disclosure  ?  " 

Rita  laughed  again,  in  genuine  and  contemptuous  amuse- 
ment. "Dare  I?  Why  should  I  go?  Does  it  follow 
because  you  are  a  coward,  that  I  must  be  one  ?  Moreover, 
I  question  seriously  whether  any  disturbance  will  follow 
what  your  fears  have  magnified  into  a  'disclosure.'  My 
humble  opinion  is  that  Mrs.  Bentley  will  not  vex  her  immacu- 
27 


314  "FOE  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

late  soul  about  what  she  has  seen,  if  indeed  she  could 
discern  anything  clearly  in  this  flickering  light.  Nor  do  I 
think  that  if  she  drew  from  her  discovery  the  inference  that 
we  vere  in  love  with  one  another  she  would  fly  into  hysterics 
over  it,  or  do  aught  else  that  was  not  cool  and  proper.  A 
wife  who  does  not  exert  herself  to  retain  her  husband's 
affection,  should  not  complain  if  he  appreciates  another's 
charms.  At  all  events,  it  is  a  good  plan  to  wait  and  see 
what  mischief  is  done  before  one  betrays  himself  by  covering 
it  up.  As  to  your  European  elopement,  with  many  thanks 
for  the  honor  done  me  by  your  offer  of  the  trip,  allow  me  to 
inform  you  that  no  woman  of  spirit  would  be  likely  to  close 
in  with  a  proposal  delivered  in  that  style.  When  I  sacrifice 
country,  friends,  and  fair  name  to  link  my  fortunes  with 
those  of  one  of  creation's  lords,  it  will  not  be  for  one  who 
regards  my  companionship  in  his  flight  as  a  pis  alter.  I 
hear  the  tea-bell !  Mrs.  Bentley  is  the  soul  of  punctuality, 
as  of  all  other  first-class  virtues."  She  swept  him  a  mocking 
curtsey  in  passing  on  her  way  to  the  door,  showing  her 
white  teeth  in  a  smile,  as  she  did  so. 

He  neither  moved  nor  spoke.  He  was  transfixed  by  this 
abrupt  abandonment  of  her  seductive  disguise ;  the  disdain 
with  which  she  had  flouted  his  insane  proposal.  The  shock 
over,  he  trembled  at  the  imagination  of  what  would  have 
been  his  situation  had  she  loved  him  well  enough,  or  been 
so  mad  as  to  close  in  with  it.  Had  he  been  dreaming  ?  was 
his  next  question.  He  could  have  persuaded  himself  of 
this,  but  for  the  bruised  cluster  of  tuberoses  that  lay  on  the 
carpet,  having  dropped  from  her  hair  when  he  pushed  her 
away.  He  picked  them  up  and  flung  them  into  the  fire  with 
an  execration.  "  A  vile  plot !  "  he  muttured.  "  She  meant 
to  ruin  me,  knowing  all  the  while  that  she  was  safe.  She 
is  a  demon,  and  I  am  a  fool ! " 


315 


The  patter  of  small,  uncertain  feet  came  along  the  hall, 
and  Lulu  rattled  the  knob  of  the  door:  "O  Papa!"  she 
cried,  as  he  unclosed  it,  "Mamma  says  you  must  tome  wight 
away  down  to  supper.  And  Tousin  Rita  says,  hurry  up, 
tause  the  munings  is  all  detting  told,  and  she  is  dweadfully 
hungry  1" 


316  "FOE  BETTER,  FOE  WOESE." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHEN  Sydney  entered  the  supper-room,  with  Lulu  in  his 
arms,  Miss  Lambert  was  standing  at  the  back  of  her  chair 
discoursing  volubly  to  her  hostess  of  the  "loveliest"  Parisian 
weddirig-dress  she  had  examined  at  the  room  of  a  fashiona- 
ble mantua-maker,  that  day. 

"You  can  imagine — you,  who  have  such  perfect  taste 
yourself —  you  can  conceive  better  than  I  can  describe  what 
must  be  the  effect  of  the  point-lace  flounces  looped  over 
this  superb  skirt,  with  the  darlingest,  most  perfect  tuberoses 
you  ever  beheld !  I  mean  to  have  the  counterpart  of  this 
toilet  when  I  make  Mr.  Nameless  the  happiest  of  men. 
You  could  absolutely  fancy  that  you  inhaled  the  perfume  of 
my  favorite  flowers,  so  life-like  were  they." 

Sydney  sickened  at  the  words  and  the  penetrating,  cloy- 
ing odor  diffused  through  the  dining-room,  as  it  had  been 
through  the  parlor. 

"  It  must  have  been  very  handsome !"  was  Kate's  politely 
commonplace  reply.  "  We  are  waiting  for  yoxi,  my  dear  !" 

Few  phrases  are  more  meaningless  than  the  conventional 
"  My  dear,"  with  which  wedded  couples  of  long  standing 
are  accustomed  to  address  one  another.  But  this  did  not  slip 
from  Kate's  lips  from  force  of  habit.  Sydney  understood  that 
ehe  used  it  for  a  specific  purpose ;  that  while  it  was  to  con- 
vey no  tone  of  affection  to  his  ear,  it  was  to  serve  as  a  bar- 
rier against  inconvenient  inquiries  or  awkward  reserve ;  in 
short,  that  what  she  had  witnessed  less  than  half  an  hour  ago 
27* 


317 

was  to  be  as  if  it  never  had  been,  while  the  blue  eyes  that 
looked  so  soft,  and  were,  in  reality,  so  cruel,  were  upon 
their  every  look  and  action. 

Before  they  quitted  the  table,  he  was  actually  tempted  to 
admit  the  supposition  that  she  must  have  been  misled  by 
the  flickering  blaze,  as  to  the  position  in  which  she  had  lately 
beheld  him,  while  Rita,  skilful  dissembler  as  she  was  her- 
self, was  morally  certain  that  this  was  so.  Kate  was  more 
gracious  than  usual  to  her  guest,  even  pressing  her  to  pro- 
long her  visit ;  and  when  assured  that  stern  necessity  drew 
the  reluctant  Rita  from  her  present  delightful  quarters, 
"hoping  for  a  repetition  of  the  favor,  some  time  during  the 
winter." 

"  Youv will  be  down  stairs  soon,  will  you  not  ?  "  coaxed  the 
hypocritical  charmer,  when  Mrs.  Bentley  called  to  Lulu  that 
she  must  go  to  bed.  "I  have  had  a  horrible  turn  of  the 
vapors  this  afternoon,  and  when  I  went  to  Sydney  for  con- 
solation, what  do  you  think  he  mid?  " 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know."  Kate  was  stooping  to  take 
the  child  in  her  arms,  and  spoke  carelessly. 

"  Why,  instead  of  sympathy,  I  ',vas  treated  to  a  lecture  —  a 
scathing  one,  too!"  with  a  reminiscent  shrug  which  Sydney 
understood  —  "a  regular  scolding  for  my  childishness  and 
morbid  notions  and  general  unlikenass  to  his  nonpareil  of  a 
wife.  If  I  didn't  love  you  so  dearly  myself,  I  should  soon 
learn  to  hate  you,  you  are  so  constantly  held  up  as  <m  ex- 
ample for  the  humble  imitation  of  my  imperfect  self.  You 
never  have  the  blues,  he  says:" 

"Very  seldom,"  answered  Kate,  making  another  effort  l^ 
get  out  of  the  room. 

Rita  was  at  her  heels.  "  This  is  my  last  nigl>t  hero,  remeoa  * 
ber!  and  I  have  seen  so  much  less  of  you  t,han  I  hoped 
I  should  do  when  I  accepted  your  kind  invitation,  that  I 
leave  with  a  sense  of  disappointment.  I  mean  to  d'.vcte  thia 


318 


evening,  or,  so  much  of  it  as  you  can  spare  for  me,  to  get- 
ting acquainted  with  you.  Mr.  Bentley  tells  me  he  has 
an  engagement  out." 

Sydney  did  not  stare  at  this  unblushing  fabrication.  He 
was  stolid  beyond  the  capacity  of  feeling  her  covert  insults. 

"  I  must  ask  your  indulgence  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes," 
said  Kate,  composedly.  "  Lulu  will  suffer  no  one  excepting 
myself  to  put  her  to  bed.  When  she  is  asleep,  I  will  come  to 
you.  Please  amuse  yourself  as  you  like  until  then." 

Rita  pursued  Sydney  into  the  library,  when  the  coast  was 
dear.  He  looked  around  angrily  as  she  rustled  in,  and  re- 
moved his  hat  from  his  head.  He  was  selecting  some  cigars 
from  a  drawer  full  of  dainty  Habafias,  and  refilling  his  pocket- 
case,  prior  to  going  out. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  or  vicious!"  said  Rita,  in  her  sweet- 
est manner.  "  I  haven't  come  to  torment  you  before  your 
time.  I  only  want  to  ask  if  you  are  not  convinced  that  I 
was  in  the  right :  that  your  wife  either  didn't  see,  or  that  she 
doesn't  care  ?  " 

't'  She  would  not  have  subjected  herself  to  your  contemp- 
tuous or  pitying  regards,  had  she  seen  and  heard  all  that 
passed,  even  if  the  knowledge  thus  gained  had  afflicted  her 
beyond  the  powers  of  endurance  of  an  ordinary  woman." 

Another  shrug,  and  a  curl  of  the  amused  lips.  "  Que  c'est 
drolef  this  determination  to  be  miserable  —  this  persistency 
in  remaining  uncomfortable !  I  thought  you  weie  one  of 
my  kind.  You  needn't  say, '  Heaven  forbid !'  as  I  see  you  are 
longing  to  do.  I  mean  simply  that  I  gave  you  credit  for 
more  philosophy,  for  a  disposition  to  take  life  by  the  smooth- 
est handle  it  presents,  and  not  dash  yourself  against  the  jag- 
ged edges.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  your  intention  at 
this  instant  were  to  atone  for  your  latest  peccadillo  by  an 
hour  spent  upon  your  knees  in  the  matrimomial  confessionaL 
Eh?" 


319 

Sydney  lighted  a  cigar,  and  walked  out  of  the  apartment 
without  answering. 

Pdta  did  not  .speak  until  she  heard  the  clang  of  the  front 
door  behind  him.  Then  her  features  were  distorted  by  rage 
and  mortification.  "The  pitiful  coward!  the  great,  foolish 
baby  !  I  would  never  have  wasted  a  single  round  upon 
him,  had  I  suspected  of  what  stuff  he  was  really  made !  I 
am  glad  he  didn't  propose  to  me  when  he  was  a  bachelor. 
I  should  unquestionably  have  accepted  him,  and  made  my- 
self miserable  for  tlie  remainder  of  my  days.  Fancy  my 
bemg  tied  for  life  to  such  a  milksop !  He  is  gloriously 
handsome,  though  !  If  he  belonged  to  me,  I  would  put  him 
into  a  glass  case  as  a  parlor  ornament !  " 

She  could  swear  and  vow  to  herself  that  she  rejoiced  in 
her  fortunate  escape  from  the  fate  she  pretended  to  believe 
would  have  been  hers,  had  her  girlish  wishes  been  fulfilled 
but  she  was  intensely  chagrined  at  her  failure ;  ashamed  of 
the  undignified  issue  of  her  grand  siege.  She  had  never  en- 
joyed an  "affair"  more.  The  unexampled  facilities  offered 
her  for  carrying  it  on  had  precluded  the  necessity  of  labori- 
ous intriguing  on  her  part,  and  the  partner  to  the  in- 
teresting pastime  was  well  worth  the  trouble  of  catching. 
But  the  most  pungent  and  flavorous  sauce  to  her  pleasure 
had  been  the  idea  that  she  was  undermining  that  love  and 
respect  for  his  wife  which  had  grown  into  a  proverb  among 
the  fast  men  and  women  of  her  set. 

I,  the  writer  of  this  latter-day  chronicle,  am  too  thorough- 
going a  utilitarian  to  enter  appreciatingly  into  the  spirit  of 
a  flirtation  with  a  man  already  married.  If  I  must  be  alto- 
gether candid,  I  confess  to  an  old-fashioned  prejudice  that 
bids  me  distrust  the  moral  principle,  along  with  the  kindli- 
ness of  nature  of  her  who  indulges  her  vanity  at  the  risk  of 
her  own  reputation  and  another's  peace  of  mind.  I  am  a 


320 


dear  lover  of  fair  play,  and  when  two  celibate  coquettes  en- 
gage each  other  in  a  test-duel,  I  may  have  my  private  opin- 
ion of  the  good  taste  and  delicacy  of  the  exhibition,  but 
I  do  not  trouble  myself  with  fears  and  misgivings  as  to  the 
consequences  of  the  affray.  If  either  party  come  to  grief 
in  the  sequel,  it  is  only  a  matter  of  individual  hurt,  and  the 
odds  are  greatly  in  favor  of  the  supposition  that  the  worsted 
combatant  deserves  all  that  he  or  she  got,  and  a  scratch  or 
iyfo  more.  If  the  mock  fight  result  in  the  enslavement  of 
both,  Hymen  steps  in  decorously,  and  winds  up  the  affair  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  world  at  large  and  the  (present)  de- 
lectation of  the  pair  most  nearly  interested  in  the  ceremony. 
But  this  careless  or  malicious  infringement  upon  the  solemn 
rights  of  another,  and  that  other  an  unoffending  sister,  is 
dead  contrary  to  my  code  of  morals,  and,  I  may  as  well  add, 
religion.  If  God  has  ordained  marriage  as  the  highest  state 
of  earthly  felicity,  and  His  solemn  "  Let  not  man  put  asun- 
der ! "  warned  off  the  sacrilegious  touch  from  the  repository 
of  wedded  loves,  the  conduct  of  those  who  vote  flirting  with 
single  men — or  women — an  insipid  entertainment  in  com- 
parison with  the  triumph  and  excitement  of  a  so-called  Pla- 
tonic affaire  with  the  husband  or  wife  of  somebody  else,  is 
more  than  "imprudent"  or  "equivocal."  It  is  a  deliberate 
sin  against  the  Divine  law,  even  though  the  intimacy  never 
transcend  the  limits  of  what  a  lax  fashionable  public  opinion 
calls  propriety. 

Rita  Lambert  had  ruined  the  peace  of  Sydney  Bentley's 
household  as  effectually  as  if  she  had  eloped  with  the  hus- 
band and  father,  and  set  the  town  to  ringing  with  the  scan- 
dal the  guilty  pair  had  brought  down  upon  two  honorable 
families.  And  those  who  have  marked  her  course  to  this 
point,  will  acquiesce  in  the  assertion  that  wounded  vanity 
and  womanly  pique  had  more  to  do  with  averting  this  dia- 


"FOR  BETTEK,   FOE  WOESE."  321 

aster  than  compassion  for  the  injured  wife  —  far  more  than 
had  virtue  or  delicacy. 

She  spent  the  evening  rather  dully  for  one  whose  greatest 
delight  in  life  was  to  create  and  to  experience  a  "  sensation." 
Kate's  work-basket  stood  ready  to  her  hand,  and  in  the  in- 
tervals of  conversation  her  needle  was  active.  She  did  not 
exert  herself  to  talk,  yet  her  guest  had  no  just  occasion  to 
complain  of  her  taciturnity.  There  was  little  in  common 
between  them ;  and  the  two  minds  were  so  opposite  in  mould 
and  tone,  that  their  range  of  topics  was  circumscribed.  At 
nine  o'clock,  Rita  excused  herself  from  sitting  up  later  upon 
a  plea  of  a  "  sleepy  headache,"  and  betook  herself  to  her 
dormitory,  where,  let  us  hope,  her  dreams  were  more  inno- 
cent than  the  meditations  of  her  waking  hours. 

Kate's  hands  fell  nerveless,  her  calm  features  darkened 
convulsively,  when  her  abhorrent  companion  was  gone.  She 
was  like  one  who,  scared  by  a  vision  of  tempest  or  fire, 
awakes  to  find  the  imperfect  yet  horrid  fancy  exceeded  by 
the  real  danger  encompassing  her.  She  had  said,  "I  will 
know  all !  "  and  now  that  the  extent  of  that  terrible  "  all " 
opened  up  to  her  realization,  she  was  stricken  with  dumb 
paralysis  at  the  revelation.  Step  by  step  she  forced  herself 
to  contemplate  the  truth.  Sydney  had  never  loved  her  as 
he  did  this  fair,  false  creature,  who  had  stolen  treacherously 
into  her  home.  'Conscience  interposed  here, — 

"  Whom  you  invited  hither  to  tempt  him  to  sin — to  do 
this  wicked  wrong  against  virtue  and  yourself.  If  they  have 
committed  it,  are  your  skirts  clear?  Are  you  not,  in  a 
great  and  comprehensive  sense,  your  husband's  keeper  ? " 
The  smart  of  the  telling  blow  moved  the  numbed  spirit  to 
sentiency. 

"  Constancy  which  cannot  withstand  the  glozing  arts  of  a 
bold,  bad  woman  is  not  worth  having ! "  she  uttered, 
audibly.  "  From  this  hour,  he  is  no  husband  of  mine  !  lie 


322  "  FOll   BETTER,   FOE   WOKSE." 

has  chosen  his  path.  Let  him  walk  in  it.  His  sin  is  upon 
his  own  head  —  not  mine  ! " 

For  three  dreary,  formal,  wretched  days,  the  hollow  seem- 
ing of  polite  intercourse  went  on  between  the  alienated  pair. 
They  sat  at  the  same  board,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  ser- 
vants talked  together  upon  indifferent  subjects,  as  if  the  one 
torturing  subject  were  not  gnawing  in  the  mind  of  each. 
Sydney  still  went  through  the  routine  of  asking  every  morn- 
ing if  he  could  serve  her  in  any  way,  and  Kate  returned  a 
sentence  of  acknowledgment,  accepting  or  declining  his  olfer. 
He  still  sent  home  from  the  markets  the  delicacies  he  knew 
she  preferred,  and  she  studied  his  taste  in  the  preparation  of 
her  bills  of  fare.  For  all  else  that  could  have  told  that  they 
were  not  strangers,  or  chance  fellow-lodgers  in  the  same 
house,  each  might  have  been  ignorant  of  the  other's  character 
and  name. 

The  fourth  evening,  Sydney  appeared  in  the  snug  sewing- 
room,  where  Kate  now  sat  habitually  from  tea  until  bedtime, 
unless  there  were  calls  for  her  below.  She  looked  up  in  sur- 
prise, not  agitation,  at  the  xmcommon  occurrence  of  a  visit 
from  him  to  her  sanctum ;  set  a  chair  forward  for  him,  and, 
without  resuming  her  seat,  awaited  the  expression  of  his 
wishes  with  the  deferential  mien  of  a  housekeeper  who  at- 
tended upon  his  master's  commands. 

"  You  will  oblige  me  by  sitting  down,"  he  said ;  "  I  pre- 
fer to  stand.  I  shall  not  detain  you  many  minutes." 

She  bowed  slightly  and  obeyed. 

He  took  up  his  position  upon-  the  opposite  side  of  her 
work-table,  resting  the  knuckles  of  his  left  hand  hard  upon 
the  top  of  it.  "  Do  not  let  me  interrupt  your  sewing." 

Again  she  complied  with  his  request,  setting  stitch  after 
stitch  with  clock-work  regularity. 

"  I  would  not  have  intruded  upon  your  privacy,  had  there 
not  existed  imperative  reasons  for  my  seeking  this  inter- 


"FOE  BOTTEK,   FOB   WOKBE."  323 

view,"  he  continued,  in  the  forced,  dry  tone  he  had  before 
used.  "  I  am  here  to  communicate  to  you  the  details  of  a 
plan  which  has  been  agreed  upon  this  day  by  my  father 
and  myself.  You  are  aware  that  we  are  the  largest  tcu 
importei's  in  this  city,  and  in  order  to  carry  on  our  busi- 
ness successfully,  we  found  it  expedient,  many  years  ago,  to 
establish  a  branch  of  our  house,  forwarding  merchants,  iu 
Shanghai,  China.  We  have  reason  to  suspect  gross  mis- 
management on  the  part  of  our  agents  there.  It  is  thought 
best  that  one  of  the  firm  should  sail  immediately  to  investi- 
gate these  disorders  and  rectify  them,  if  practicable.  I  have 
offered  to  go.  The  vessel  will  sail  to-morrow  at  noon.  I 
have  made  arrangements  that  will,  I  hope,  secure  your  com- 
fort during  my  absence.  My  father  will  provide  you  with 
whatever  funds  you  wish.  I  have  directed  him  to  pay  over 
to  you,  monthly,  the  sum  we  now  expend  for  housekeeping 
and  other  family  expenses,  and  as  much  more  as  you  need. 
I  beg  that  you  will  not  hesitate  to  draw  freely  upon  the 
amount  deposited  in  his  care.  It  is  for  your  use  alone ; 
subject  only  to  your  order.  One  of  the  clerks  from  our 
office,  a  steady,  trusty  fellow,  will  occupy  a  room  in  this 
house  at  night,  that  you  may  not  feel  yourself  unprotected 
in  the  event  of  alarm  from  sickness  or  any  other  cause.  I 
hope,  moreover,  that  you  will  invite  some  lady,  a  relative  or 
friend,  whomsoever  you  like,  to  live  with  you." 

The  cold  sweat  was  pressed  in  great  globules  through 
every  pore  of  Kate's  body ;  her  fingers  were  like  frozen  clay, 
but  they  kept  up  their  mechanical  motion,  and  the  stitches 
they  fashioned  were  still  minute  and  even,  although  the  face 
bent  over  them  was  livid. 

Sydney  cleared  his  throat  before  recommencing.  a  I  leave 
with  less  unwillingness  because  Lulu  is  rapidly  regaining 
health  and  strength.  I  have  but  one  favor  to  ask  of  you. 
You  may  refuse  it  if  you  consider  it  unreasonable,  and  1 


324: 


shall  not  murmur.  Let  me  hear,  now  and  then,  of  her, 
You  can  send  me  a  few  lines  under  your  own  hand;  or  if 
this  will  be  an  imposition  upon  your  time,  a  message  iu 
my  father's  letters,  telling  me  that  you  are  both  well,  will 
answer  the  same  purpose." 

A  dead  silence.  In  the  pulseless  stillness  of  the  room 
could  be  heard  the  hiss  of  the  taut  silk,  as  it  was  drawn 
through  the  fabric  in  the  wife's  hand,  the  faint  buzz  of  the 
gas-light  overhead. 

The  dry,  strained  voice  took  up  the  word  again :  "  If 
there  is  anything  else  which  you  would  like  to  have  attended 
to  before  my  departure,  you  will  greatly  oblige  me  by  men- 
tioning it  now.  My  preparations  have  been  made  in  such 
haste,  it  is  very  possible  that  I  may  have  omitted  something 
of  importance.  It  is  my  sincere  wish  to  leave  nothing  un- 
done that  could  contribute  to  your  welfare  and  happiness." 
He  stopped  short,  arrested  by  a  change  in  the  aspect  of  the 
figure  opposite,  a  quiver,  like  the  tremor  of  a  tree  before  the 
breaking  of  a  storm ;-  a  visible  variation  in  the  shuttle-like 
motion  of  the  hand;  a  lower  droop  of  the  head.  He 
thought  her  impulse  had  been  to  interrupt  him  by  some  cor- 
rection or  suggestion.  The  movement,  slight,  scarcely  dis- 
cernible save  by  eyes  sharpened,  as  were  his,  by  love  and 
suffering,  seemed  to  him  to  signify  dissent,  to  negative  his 
closing  words. 

If  the  face  had  not  been  so  studiously  averted,  he  would 
have  seen  a  singular  smile  wring  the  lips  —  a  desolate  win- 
try contortion,  more  foreign  to  joyousness  than  weeping 
would  have  been.  The  mouth  moved  too,  in  syllabic  utter- 
ance, but  the  whisper  was  inaudible.  The  word  formed  by 
the  stirred  muscles  was  the  one  he  had  just  used. 

"  Happiness  /"  Then  she  gathered  up  her  forces  and  was 
mistress  of  herself  once  more.  "  Thank  you !  I  have  no 
amendments  to  suggest.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  arrange- 


"  FOB  BETTER,   FOE  WOESE."  325 

ments  you  have  already  made  will  be  altogether  satisfactory. 
How  long  shall  you  probably  be  absent?  " 

Lest  he  should  imagine  that  she  felt  any  personal  anx- 
iety in  his  reply,  she  looked  up  and  showed  him  features 
pale  but  still  —  stillness  that  was  tranquillity  itself  com- 
pai-ed  with  the  disquiet  of  those  that  met  her  view. 

There  vvei'e  beads  of  agony  upon  his  forehead;  a  cadaver- 
ous hue  had  supplanted  his  habitually  clear  complexion; 
his  eyes  were  hollow  and  large,  and  the  hand  he  raised 
instinctively  to  hide  the  twitching  mouth  shook  as  with  an 
ague.  He  was  suffering  dreadfully.  Kate  could  not  disbe- 
lieve this;  biit  had  he  not  deserved  it  all?  Was  he  not  the 
destroyer  of  her  happiness  —  a  traitor,  liar,  and  hypocrite  ? 
She  set  these  counts  prominently  in  order  before  her  mind, 
and  her  courage  augmented  in  the  review. 

"  That  is  altogether  uncertain." 

"  Excuse  me.     I  should  not  have  asked  the  question." 

"  You  had  a  perfect  right  to  do  it.  If  I  knew  anything 
about  it  myself,  I  would  not  hesitate  to  reply  decidedly  as 
to  the  length  of  my  stay." 

Kate  picked  up  her  needle  and  took  a  dozen  careful 
stitches.  "  1  hope  you  will  have  a  comfortable  voyage.  It 
is  unfortunate  that  you  should  be  obliged  to  sail  in  win- 
ter." 

Sydney  caught  at  the  shadowy  objection.  "Do  you  dis- 
approve of  this  step?  Does  it  seem  to  you  precipitate? 
If  you  think  it  ill-advised,  I  can  reconsider  the  matter." 

"By  no  means.  I  approve  of  the  scheme  so  far  as  I 
comprehend  it.  You  could  not  wait  until  spring,  since,  as 
you  have  said,  your  presence  is  required  in  the  foreign 
house.  "What  can  I  do  towards  getting  you  ready  ?  What 
shall  I  pack?" 

"Nothing.  You  are  very  kind,  but  I  will  not  trouble 
you.  I  have  put  up  all  that  I  am  likely  to  need." 


326  "FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

Kate  went  on  with  the  work  she  had  offered  to  lay 
aside.  Her  manner  said  plainly  that  she  regarded  the  con- 
ference  closed. 

Sydney  lingered.  He  had  laid  hold  of  the  tall  back  of 
an  antique  chair,  and  the  fingers  seemed  to  be  one  with  tho 
carved  wood,  so  tight  was  their  clutch. 

"One  word!"  His  tone  was  less  firm  and  more  husky. 
"  I  cannot  leave  you  without  attempting  to  qualify  the  im- 
pression made  upon  your  mind  by  the  scene  you  witnessed 
accidentally  last  Friday  night." 

If  he  had  expected  to  see  her  wince  at  the  allusion,  he 
was  mistaken.  She  was  entirely  prepared  for  what  followed 
the  falter  in  voice  and  bearing. 

"  And  I  wish  to  confirm  your  opinion  that  my  intrusion 
was  accidental,"  she  answered,  unmoved.  "I  did  not  know 
there  was  any  one  in  the  parlor  when  I  pushed  back  the 
doors." 

Sydney  put  aside  this  needless  explanation  without  note. 
"  I  have  been  culpable  enough,  heaven  knows !  have  sinned 
too  deeply,  in  some  respects,  to  hope  for  your  pardon.  But, 
in  this  one  instance,  I  was  less  in  fault  than  appearances 
warranted  you  in  believing.  You  saw  the  worst.  If  you 
had  not  lost  faith  in  me  before,  I  might  be  able  to  clear  my- 
self from  this  new  and  most* injurious  suspicion.  I  can 
only  declare  —  upon  the  word  of  a  man  who  feels  that  this 
may  be  the  last  and  only  opportunity  ever  granted  him  for 
setting  himself  right  in  the  estimation  of  one  whom  he 
honors  and  respects  more  than  all  the  world  beside  —  that, 
from  the  hour  in  which  I  first  knew  you,  no  one  else  has  • 
ever  disputed  your  place  in  my  heart.  In  spirit  and  in 
letter  I  have  been  true  to  you.  I  do  not  expect  you  to 
credit  this  wholly  now.  Your  confidence  in  me  has  been 
too  rudely  shaken  to  allow  this.  But  something  within  me 
tells  me  that  the  time  may  come  when  it  will  comfort  you  to 


327 


remember  what  I  have  just  said;  when  you  will  do  my 
atiection  for  you  tardy  justice  —  but  it  will  be  justice.  I 
should  be  content  to  wait  —  only  time  passes  so  slowly ! " 

He  was  forgetting  himself,  and  he  paiised  to  collect  his 
senses.  His  next  sentence  sounded  both  timid  and  formal. 
It  might  have  been  the  effect  of  embarrassment  induced  by 
his  wife's  freezing  silence.  Kate  believed  it  the  restraint 
put  upon  speech  by  conscious  guilt. 

"No  other  woman  has  ever  heard  from  me  a  syllable  de- 
noting disloyalty  to  you." 

Her  eyes  flashed  scornfully.  There  was  no  longer  any 
flutter  in  her  demeanor.  She  sat  haughtily  erect,  her  eyes 
bent  upon  her  everlasting  stitching,  the  glittering  needle 
and  its  whip  of  crimson  silk  darting  in  and  out  of  Lulu's 
Cashmere  cloak.  The  mother  was  forever  at  work  for  her 
idol. 

"  Will  you  not  promise  me  to  recollect  this  when  T  am 
gone,  Kate?" 

The  cry  of  anguish  drew  forth  the  late  reply:  "Why 
should  I,  Sydney?  I  am  not  angry  with  you  or  with  her/ 
I  learned  nothing  that  night.  The  shock  was  not  what  you 
suppose  it  to  have  been.  I  knew  all  before ;  knew  that  she 
was  an  earlier  love  than  I,  and  that  her  old  supremacy  was 
re-established.  I  do  believe  you  would  have  been  faithful 
to  me  if  you  could.  But  it  was  not  in  your  nature.  With 
you,  the  affections  are  stronger  than  principle.  It  is  often 
so.  Women  are  very  artful,  and  men  —  most  men — are 
•very  weak.  Let  it  pass !  No  good  can  come  of  raking  the 
fire  into  a  fiercer  glow.  If  we  would  part  friends,  —  and 
there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not, — it  is  unwise  and 
unkind  to  refer  to  this  subject.  A  volume  of  protestations 
to  the  contrary  would  not  convince  me  that  I  am  in  error. 
You  are  acting  prudently  —  most  judiciously  —  in  quitting 
the  country  for  a  few  months,  or  years,  as  the  case  shall 


328  "FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

require.  While  I  live,  and  our  outward  relations  remain 
unchanged,  you  can  never  be  more  to  her  than  you  are  now. 
The  width  of  half  the  globe  cannot  put  us  —  you  and  me  — 
further  apart  than  we  already  are  in  heart  and  in  interests. 
A  prolonged  absence  is  best  for  us  both,  and  if  you  will 
make  it  long  enough,  it  is  the  surest  means  for  the  attain- 
ment of  a  desirable  end." 

He  made  an  impetuous  step  toward  her.  "Kate!  Can 
it  be  my  wife  who  so  coolly  decrees  our  separation !  who 
designates  the  step  by  which  a  divorce  is  to  be  attained ! 
A  divorce!  Think  of  it!  For  us,  who  once  loved  one 
another  so  well !  " 

"  Once ! "  with  the  dreary  gleam  that  had  broken  up  the 
dead  calm  of  her  features  awhile  before.  "Once  is  not 
now !  It  is  the  initial  step  that  counts  in  the  dissolution  of 
the  marriage  tie,  as  in  everything  else  in  this  world.  That 
step  I  did  not  take  !  " 

This,  their  last  private  interview,  ended  there.  Tb.e 
house  was  in  a  bustle  all  the  next  forenoon.  Mrs.  Bentley, 
Mrs.  Risley,  Eliza,  and  Anna,  were  there  to  assist  in  getting 
the  voyager  ready,  and  finding  his  one  trunk  packed  and 
strapped,  and  that  he  had  himself  gone  down  town  to  settle 
a  few  parting  matters  with  his  father,  the  four  disconsolate 
relatives  sat  themselves  down  to  ''keep  up  poor  Kate's 
spirits"  by  keeping  their  own  down  to  the  lowest  possible 
ebb.  Paler  than  any  ghost,  every  nerve  in  her  head  ting- 
ling with  keenest  pain,  she  whom  they  meant  to  console 
was  the  most  composed  member  of  the  family  party. 

"Just  as  I  always  said!"  remarked  Eliza,  when  her 
mother,  after  the  wont  of  mild  elderly  ladies,  whose  tears  lie 
very  near  the  surface,  and  whose  hearts  are  so  soft  that  the 
wounds  inflicted  by  unkind  fortune  close  up  with  comfort- 
able rapidity,  complimented  her  daughter-in-law  upon  her 
"amazing  strength  of  mind,"  and  "command  of  her  feelings^' 


"  FOE   BETTEK,   FOE  WOBSE."  329 

ftnd  wished  snivellingly,  that  she  "  was  mistress  of  her  emo- 
tions, but  this  parting  would  kill  her — she  knew  it  would  ! 
she  had  a  presentiment  that  she  was  not  long  for  thia 
world;  but  she  had  hoped  to  die  in  her  nest,  with  all 
her  children  about  her;  and  to  think  that  Sydney,  the 
only  boy  she  had  left  to  her  old  age,  and  the  best  son  a 
mother  ever  had,  should  "  —  regular  break-down  and  general 
unintelligibility.  * 

"  Just  as  I  always  said ! "  said  the  acute  Eliza.  "  There 
is  nothing  more  deceptive  than  appearances,  particularly 
where  newly-married  people  are  concerned.  A  hot  beginning 
is  almost  sure  to  have  a  cold  ending.  Kate's  supernatural 
self-command  reminds  me  of  the  story  of  the  man  who  said 
he  thought  his  wife  so  sweet  during  the  honeymoon  that  he 
wanted  to  eat  her  up,  and  he  had  been  sorry  ever  since  that 
he  had  not  done  it !  " 

Mrs.  Bentley  tittered  through  her  tears.  "How  very 
funny  you  are,  my  dear  !  She  is  the  best  company  I  know 
Katie,  love,  when  one  is  depressed.  She  has  such  a  flow  of 
spirits ! " 

Eliza  was  not  to  be  diverted  from  her  purpose  by  sugared 
crumbs  of  compliment. 

"As  I  was  saying,  this  excessive  billing  and  cooing  for  a 
few  weeks,  invariably  subsides  into  the  iciest  sort  of  friendly 
regard  when  the  weeks  have  grown  into  years.  The  devoted 
wife  sheds  fewer  tears  over  her  husband's  departure  for 
the  world's  end  than  she  once  poured  forth  over  his 
absenting  himself  for  three  hours  from  the  heaven  of  her 
presence." 

Kate  had  learned  long  since  to  pay  no  apparent  regard  to 
(he  needles  and  pins  which  tumbled  from  Eliza's  dry  pur- 
plish lips  as  rapidly  as  did  the  frogs,  spiders,  and  scorpions, 
from  the  rosy  mouth  of  the  bad  little  girl  in  the  fairy  tale. 
The  sharp  spinster  made  so  many  passes  at  her  nearest  and 
28* 


330  "FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

dearest  of  kin,  that  it  would  have  been  miraculous  had  slid 
in  every  instance,  failed  to  touch  a  vulnerable  point.  Tin? 
one  went  straight  home  to  the  sorest  spot  of  Kate's  heart ; 
but  her  face  grew  no  whiter,  — that  could  hardly  have  bye  si, 
—  and  she  could  smile  without  essaying  a  reply.  Eliza  di  cl 
not  relish  replies  as  a  general  thing.  She  preferred  to  feel 
that  she  had  routed  her  enemy  pro  tempore,  foot  and  horse ; 
demolished  what  she  had  struck,  root  and  branch.  A  nota- 
blo  exception  to  the  rest  of  her  sex,  she  was  never  satisfied 
without  having  the  last  word.  Grant  her  that,  and  she  was 
benignant  —  for  hei*. 

Noon  drew  on  apace,  and  Sydney  came  in,  with  his  father, 
to  say  that  he  must  be  gone  within  the  hour.  His  wife  had 
provided  a  bountiful  luncheon,  and  the  family  discussed  it 
in  full  conclave.  Mrs.  Bisley,  only,  of  the  ladies,  noticed 
that  Kate  could  not  eat  a  mouthful,  an  inability  she  covered 
cleverly  by  attention  to  the  wants  of  others.  Sydney's  cor- 
responding lack  of  appetite  was  commented  upon  pityingly 
by  his  mother,  lovingly  by  Anna,  and  sourly  by  Eliza. 

"  Are  you  sea-sick  in  anticipation  ? "  asked  the  latter. 
"  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would  reserve  my  display  of 
fsntimental  qualmishness  until  it  was  beyond  my  power  to 
get  a  civilized  ineal.  You  can  pine  then  at  your  leisure, 
without  losing  such  oysters  and  quails  as  these.  And  the 
sheep's  eyes  you  have  been  stealing  at  Kate  ever  since  you 
sat  down  are  all  thrown  away.  She  has  been  telling  us  how 
resigned  she  is  to  your  departure.  You  never  did  a  more 
sensible  thing,  if  we  are  to  believe  her.  Rita  Lambert,  new, 
would  return  your  lovesick  glances  with  compound  interest, 
but  your  wife  is  made  of  different  metal." 

"  I  am  thankful  that  she  is  !  "  spoke  up  Sydney,  boldly 
and  fervently. 

Eliza  peaked  her  eyebrows  fretfully.  "  Heyday !  what  has 
happened  ?  Have  you  quarrelled  with  la  belle  Margarita,  or 


**  FOK   BETTER,   FOE   WOESE."  331 

is  that  a  bit  of  flummery  intended  for  Kate's  benefit,  a  sweet- 
meat which  she  can  roll  under  her  tongue  while  you  are 
away  ?  You  wouldn't  derive  much  consolation  from  the 
process,  let  me  tell  you,  Mrs.  Sydney  Bentley,  if  you  had 
met  them  as  I  did,  one  moonlight  night  a  fortnight  ago, 
walking  arm-in-arm,  he  staring  down  into  her  eyes,  she 
staring  up  into  his,  like  a  couple  of  enamoured  calves  !  " 

"  I  do  not  recollect  it, "  "began  her  brother. 

"  Of  course  not !  I  didn't  expect  you  to  see  so  insignifi- 
cant a  personage  as  I  am.  But  I  saw  you !  Moreover,  I 
passed  so  close  to  you  that  I  could  hear  every  word  you  said. 
I  heard  you  talking  abo\it  an  'uncongenial  union,'  and 
she  sighed  dolefully  in  reply.  It  is  just  as  well  that  he  should 
go  to  the  antipodes,  Kate.  I  quite  agree  with  you  on  that 
head.  The  whole  town  is  ringing  with  talk  about  his  re- 
vived flirtation,  and  people  wonder  how  you  can  stand  by 
and  suffer  it." 

"It  is  high  time  you  were  off,  my  boy!"  said  old  Mr. 
Bentlsy,  hastily. 

He  dared  not  incense  the  little  black  dog  by  rebuking  his 
owner's  slanderous  tongue,  but  he  noted  the  crimson  that 
dyed  Sydney's  brow,  and  the  spark  that  shot  up  wrathfully 
in  his  eye  at  this  outrageously  indelicate  and  unfeeling  speech, 
and  he  brought  up  the  conversation  "  all  standing."  Not 
a  muscle  of  Kate's  countenance  quivered  at  the  new  attack. 
Eliza  could  divulge  nothing  which  could  affect  her ;  for  the 
wife  knew  more  than  the  sister's  most  uncharitable  imagin- 
ings had  ever  pictured.  What  difference  could  her  silly 
revelal  ions  make  in  a  destiny  already  black  as  midnight  ? 

The  leave-takings  were  quickly  over.  Mother  and  sisters 
wept  profusely,  Mrs.  Bentley  and  Eliza,  who  were  to  accom- 
pany Sydney  to  the  wharf,  shedding  as  many  tears  as  the 
others.  Eulu  cried  loudly,  clinging  to  her  father's  neck,  and 
protesting  that  he  should  not  go.  Old  Mr.  Bentley  blew  his 


332       ,          "FOR  BETTER)  FOR  WORSE." 

nose  repeatedly,  and  the  two  servant  girls  buried  tlieir  faces 
in  tlieir  aprons  after  saying  "  farewell "  to  their  kind  master. 
Kate,  dry-eyed  and  unhysterical,  moved  about  the  group, 
putting  on  Mrs.  Bentley's  cloak;  restoring  the  cane  her 
father-in-law  had  let  fall ;  tightening  the  buckles  that  bound 
Sydney's  travelling-shawl,  life-preserver,  and  telescope  into 
a  compact  bundle,  and  herself  coaxing  Lulu  from  the  arms 
that  could  not  voluntarily  release  her. 

"  Take  her  up-stairs,  Bessie  !  Mamma  will  come  to  you 
pretty  soon  now,  love,"  she  said  to  nurse  and  child,  as  she 
opened  the  door  to  allow  the  former  to  make  her  exit  with 
her  shrieking  charge. 

Turning  back  toward  the  centre  of  the  room,  she  was  met  by 
her  husband.  He  caught  her  in  an  embrace  that  threatened 
suffocation,  straining  her  to  his  breast  so  closely  that  the 
mighty  throbbings  of  his  heart  shook  her  from  head  to  foot, 
and  kissed  her  wildly  once,  twice,  thrice,  with  an  irrepres- 
sible sob,  conveying  to  her  ear  alone  his  anguished  farewell. 

"My  wife!  my  wife!" 

When  he  let  her  go  he  looked  at  and  spoke  to  no  ono 
else,  but  rushed  from  the  room  and  house.  Mrs.  Risley  and 
Anna  followed  him  to  the  door.  They  had  not  thought  it 
singular  that  Kate  had  declined  going  down  to  the  vessel, 
although  Eliza  had  exclaimed  at  it  as  unnatural  and  unwife 
like,  and  Mrs.  Bentley  had  plaintively  wondered  that  "  she 
did  not  want  to  see  the  last  of  her  husband."  Being  women 
of  refinement,  no  less  than  warmth  of  feeling,  the  younger 
sisters  sympathized  with  the  shrinking  from  a  public  display 
of  grief  —  the  disinclination  to  make  a  spectacle  of  herself 
and  her  emotions  for  the  edification  of  the  gaping  crowd 
upon  the  quay,  which  they  imagined  influenced  the  wife's 
refusal  to  be  one  of  the  carriage-party. 

They  were  surprised,  and  disposed  to  be  indignant,  how- 
ever, th-tt  she  did  not  appear  in  the  hall  or  at  the  window  as 


"FOR  BETTEE,   FOE  WOESE."  333 

the  carriage  drove  off,  and  sorry  for  Sydney  when  his  last 
sad,  wistful  look  at  his  home  was  not  repaid  by  another 
glimpse  of  her,  by  a  loving  nod  or  a  kiss  flung  after  him 
that  he  might  thenceforward  connect  with  that  parting 
view.  They  exchanged  meaning  glances  respecting  the  omis- 
sion as  they  lost  sight  of  the  vehicle  at  the  corner,  looks  of 
disapprobation  and  dawning  resentment  at  the  slight  offered 
their  beloved  brother,  that  gave  way  to  serious  concern  and 
tenderest  pity  when  they  returned  to  the  parlor  and  found 
Kate  in  a  dead  faint  upon  the  floor.  She  had  not  stirred  an 
inch  from  the  spot  where  her  husband  had  left  her. 


334  "FOE  BETTEE.  FOB  WOBSB." 


CHAPTER  VIL 

SYDNEY  sailed  for  the  Orient  in  December,  and  Mrs. 
Sydney  Bentley  was  as  much  lost  to  society  for  the  rest  of 
the  winter  and  throughout  the  spring  as  if  she  had  been  his 
compagtion  du  voyage,  or  had  entered  a  convent  to  secure 
more  complete  seclusion  from  the  world. 

So  said  her  gay  acquaintances  whenever  the  absence  of  the 
husband  and  wife  from  their  accustomed  haunts  was  spoken 
of.  There  were  several  reasons  for  this  retirement  other 
than  that  popularly  received  as  the  main  motive  of  Kate's 
non-appeai'ance  abroad ;  to-  wit,  her  regret  at  her  handsome 
partner's  departure,  and  disinclination  to  visit  alone  the 
scenes  they  had  formerly  enjoyed  in  company.  First,  these 
had  really  lost  all  attraction  to  her  care-laden  spirit.  Next, 
Eliza's  words  touching  Sydney's  entanglement  with  Rita 
Lambert  were  ever  with  her,  —  "  The  •  town  is  ringing  with 
talk  about  the  revived  flirtation."  She  would  not  afford  ad- 
ditional food  for  scandal  —  pander  to  the  vitiated  appetite 
already  busy  with  the  story  of  her  husband's  infidelity  and 
his  indifference  to  her  neglected  condition.  Besides,  her 
health  was  anything  but  firm,  and  there  was  no  prospect  of 
immediate  improvement.  Time  and  patience  would  bring 
relief  in  due  season,  but  time  was  weary-footed  and  lagged 
on  his  toilsome  route,  and  she  had  not  tutored  her  nature  to 
patient  endurance. 

Mrs.  Risley  called  one  afternoon,  late  in  March,  to  invito 
her  to  ride  with  her,  and  was  met  at  the  door  by  the  intelli- 


"FOE  BETTER,  FOE  WOESB."  335 

gence  that  Mrs.  Bentley  had  not  left  her  room  that  day,  and 
was,  the  servant  believed,  more  unwell  than  usual.  The 
kind-hearted  little  woman  had  a  sincere  regard  for  her  sister- 
in-law,  and  it  was  genuine  solicitude  that  sobered  her  bright 
countenance  as  she  ran  up-stairs  and  presented  herself  in  the 
invalid's  chamber. 

Kate  lay  upon  the  lounge  by  the  window,  wrapped  in  a 
white  dressing-gown,  and  gazing  with  mournful  listlessnesa 
up  at  the  spring  clouds,  soft  and  fleecy,  with  promise  of 
warm  rains  and  balmy  airs.  She  started  and  colored  faintly, 
as  if  interrupted  in  forbidden  reverie,  when  Mrs.  Eisley 
tapped  at  the  half-open  door. 

"  Ah,  Mildred !  is  it  you  ?  I  was  thinking  of  you  just 
now,  and  hoping  you  were  enjoying  this  lovely  weather.  It 
is  unseasonable,  though,  and  affects  me  unpleasantly.  I  lack 
the  energy  to  move  a  finger." 

The  confession,  so  unlike  the  lately  active  and  diligent 
Kate,  struck  painfully  upon  Mrs.  Risley's  ear.  Few  things 
were  more  to  be  dreaded  for  one  in  the  speaker's  condition 
than  this  apathetic  disposition  of  body  and  mind. 

"  I  have  come  to  sue  for  the  pleasure  of  your  company  in 
my  afternoon  ride,"  she  said,  encouragingly.  "  It  is  as 
mild  as  June  out-of-doors,  and  everybody  is  abroad,  walk- 
ing or  driving.  If  you  can  once  reach  the  carriage  you  will 
feel  better." 

Kate  shook  her  head.  <c  I  have  had  a  wearing  headache 
all  day.  I  am  seldom  entirely  free  from  headache,  now.  I 
think  it  is  because  I  rest  so  badly  at  night.  And  when  the 
pain  leaves  me  I  am  fit  for  nothing  but  to  lie  still  and  be 
thankful,  in  a  dull,  stupid  way,  that  it  has  gone  at  last. 
I  could  not  bear  the  motion  of  a  carriage ;  but  I  am  none 
the  less  obliged  to  you  for  your  thoughtfulness  of  my  com- 
fort." 

"  Headache  and  sleeplessness ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Bisley,  sit' 


336 


ting  down  by  the  sofa,'  and  taking  in  hers  the  dry,  thin  fin- 
gers lying  upon  the  pillow.  "  We  must  look  to  this.  Have 
you  seen  the  doctor  !" 

Kate  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  The  doctor  !  What 
can  he  do  ?  What  does  he,  or  any  other  man  know  about  a 
woman  except  what  she  chooses  to  tell  him  ?  I  can  manage 
myself  better  than  he  can  instruct  me  how  to  do.  There  ia 
nothing  the  matter  that  will  not  come  all  right,  by  and  by ; 
nothing  which  I  cannot  bear  well  enough  generally.  Only, 
to-day,  I  am  weak  and  nervous,  and  having  been,  for  a^  won- 
der, a  little  lonely,  I  was  so  foolish  as  to  run  on  with  a 
string  of  complaints  to  you,  like  a  spoiled  baby.  I  suppose 
I  was  betrayed  into  the  folly  because  you.  are  the  only  friend 
who  has  blessed  my  sight  for  twenty-four  hours." 

The  affected  levity  did  not  deceive  the  auditor.  "  You 
are  too  much  alone ! "  she  remonstrated.  <;  You  should 
have  accepted  Anna's  offer,  and  let  her  spend  at  least  half 
her  time  with  you.  This  was  Sydney's  wish,  papa  says. 
He  dreaded  your  being  lonely  more  than  anything  else.  He 
enjoined  upon  papa  the  duty  of  seeing  you  himself  every  day, 
—  of  sending  mamma  and  the  girls  in  as  often.  Papa  and 
mamma  are  out  of  town,  you  know  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Anna  begged  leave  to  stay  with  me  while  they 
were  away,  but  Eliza  seemed  to  think  this  hardly  fair ;  and, 
after  all,  I  am  fond  of  a  quiet  life." 

"  It  is  not  good  for  you,  just  now !  "  persisted  the  elder 
matron.  "  And  Sydney  will  be  displeased  when  he  hears 
that  his  parting  request  has  been  disregarded.  We  did 
not  understand,  at  the  time,  why  he  laid  such  stress  upon 
it." 

Kate  turned  away  her  head  suddenly,  while  a  burning 
flush  suffused  her  neck  and  the  cheek  visible  to  her  com- 
panion. 

"He  did  not  know — he  had  no  idea  that  there  was  any 


337 


—  that  it  would  bo  inexpedient  for  me  to  spend  all  my  time 
in  solitude,"  slio  said,  with  liuvried  incoherence.     "Ho  sus- 
j-^cted  nothing  then.     Ho  knows  nothing  now." 

'•'  Is  it  possible  ?  My  dear  sister,  you  amaze  me  !  Yet  I 
am  greatly  relieved,  too !  I  have  thought  it  very  strango 

—  quite  unlike  his  usual  loving  consideration  for  your  wel- 
fare and  wishes,  his  watchful  care  of  your  health,  that  he 
should  leave  you  at  this  time  for  an.  absence  of  such  length. 
Anna  and  I  have  talked  the  matter  over  several  times,  and 
I  own  to  you  that  we  have  blamed  him  severely." 

"  You  were  unjust,"  returned  Kate,  but  not  with  the 
eager  haste  generally  manifested  by  an  affectionate  wife  in 
defending  her  husband  from  unmerited  censure.  "  I  knew 
that  he  must  go ;  that  it  would  be  wrong  for  him  to  remain 
here  a  day  longer,  and  I  would  not  throw  a  straw  in  the 
path  of  his  duty." 

"  It  is  you  who  were  unjust  there  —  cruel  to  yourself  and 
to  him  !  "  said  the  sister-in-law,  in  gentle  chiding.  "  Poor 
fellow  !  his  heart  will  smite  him  grievously  when  he  learns 
how  you  have  needed  him.  You  may  talk  to  me  all  day 
about  your  fortitude  and  independence  of  others'  help,  and 
you  cannob  convince  me  that  you  are  are  not  suffering 
hourly  for  the  .want  of  his  care  and  petting.  Such  a  good 
nur.se  as  he  is,  too  !  Your  conduct  was  very  brave,  very 
heroic  and  unselfish,  but  extremely  foreign  to  the  practice 
of  most  wives.  If  we  haven't  a  right  to  be  first  in  our  hus- 
bands' thoughts,  haven't  the  best  claim  to  their  time  and 
attention,  where  is  the  use  of  being  married?  Shanghai 
might  go  to  Jericho,  and  all  the  tea  in  China  and  America 
to  the  bottom  of  the  Red  Sea,  before  I  would  let  my  Lewi:; 
leave  me  at  such  a  time,"  continued  the  little  lady,  waxiu;; 
vehement.  "  I  don't  believe  there  is  another  woman  in  the 
city  capable  of  making  the  sacrifice  you  have  done." 

"  None  of  us  can  tell  what  we  are  capable  of  bearing  and 
39 


338  "FOB  BETTER,  FOE  WORSE." 

doing  until  our  day  of  trial  comes,"  answered  Kate,  lacon 
ically. 

Without  divining  the  full  import  of  this  truism,  Mrs.  Ills- 
ley  was  deterred  by  her  manner  from  pursuing  the  subject 
that  had  given  rise  to  the  observation.  The  succeeding  silence 
had  lasted  long  enough  to  be  awkward,  when  Anna's  step 
was  heard  upon  the  staircase,  and  she  brought  her  fresh 
face  and  pretty  spring  attire  into  the  room. 

"  The  greatest  piece  of  news !  "  she  exclaimed,  scarcely 
waiting  to  kiss  her  sisters.  "  Rita  Lambert  is  going  to  be 
married ! " 

" Bah  !  I  have  heard  that  a  dozen  times  before  1  "said 
Mrs.  Eisley,  incredulously. 

.  "  But  there  is  no  mistake  this  time  !  She  has  commenced 
the  preparations  for  her  trousseau.  She  showed  me  her  list. 
Most  of  the  dresses  are  to  be  bought  in  Paris,  and  as  to 
lingerie  and  laces,  they  throw  my  modest  outfit  into  the 
shade.  She  vows  that  she  must  and  will  have  a  velvet  cloak 
and  a  camel's  hair  shawl.  Her  brother-in-law  has  half  pro- 
mised to  give  her  the  shawl,  and  she  asked  me  if  Sydney 
wouldn't  select  it  while  he  is  in  China.  She  has  seen  somo 
lovely  ones  that  were  purchased  in  China,  she  says.  So 
I  am  to  write  to  Syd  forthwith  and  broach  the  important 
matter  ;  for  although  she  is  going  to  work  in  such  a  hurry, 
the  affair  is  not  to  come  off  until  September.  Still,  as  Rita 
says,  one  needs  six  months,  at  the  very  least,  in  which  to 
get  decently  ready.  I  declare,  she  is  the  most  fortunate  girl 
alive  !  She  has  scores  of  rich  relations  who  are  era  ay  to 
marry  her  off,  and  they  have  promised  hei\all  sorts  of  hand- 
some presents.  One  old  great-aunt  is  to  have  her  diamond 
bracelet  broken  up  and  the  stones  reset  in  a  brooch  and  ear- 
ringij  for  her  favorite  niece,  and  an  uncle,  a  wealthy  ihy- 
goods  merchant,  is  to  give  her  a  point-lace  shawl,  and  aa 
aunt  the  wedding  veil " — 


"  FOK   BETTER,   FOR   WOESE."  339 

"  And  another  the  husband?  "queried  Mrs.  Risley,  laugh- 
ing at  this  breathless  rigmarole.  "  Or  has  this  petty  appen- 
dage to  all  the  bridal  magnificence  been  overloooked 
altogether  in  the  family  arrangements?  " 

"  That  is  just  what  he  is  !  a  petty  appendage  to  the  -wed- 
ding finery  !  "  cried  Anna,  scornfully.  "  I  wouldn't  many 
him  if  he  were  ten  times  as  rich  —  and  he  is  a  reputed 
millionnaire.  He  was  once  a  member  of  Congress,  too,  and 
Rita  hopes  he  may  secure  a  foreign  appointment  some  day, 
when  she  can  queen  it  as  Madame  1'Ambassadrice  among 
kings  and  nobles.  You  should  hear  her  run  on  !  " 

"  It  is  enough  to  hear  you  !  She  didn't  mention  his  name, 
then  !  " 

"  Of  course  she  did,  dozens  of  times !  Haven't  I  told 
you  ?  She  engaged  herself,  last  week,  to  Mr.  Pepper,  the 
nabob,  who  has  lately  bought  Oakland,  the  palatial  country 
seat  up  the  river." 

"  He  is  old  enough  to  be  her  father ;  a  withered  yellow 
little  man,  who  looks  like  a  Jew,  with  his  hooked  nose,  big 
diamond  studs,  and  twinkling  black  eyes  !  "  was  Mrs.  Risley's 
amazed  criticism  upon  the  fair  Rita's  chosen  one.  "  A  girl 
who  has  had  such  excellent  offers  !  I  am  ashamed  of  her  and 
my  sex !  fairly  disgusted  with  such  mercenary  conduct !  " 

"  She  doesn't  pretend  to  be  dying  with  love  for  him," 
laughed  Anna.  "  She  means,  according  to  her  statement, 
to  sectire  the  best  portion  of  this  world's  goods  she  can  fur 
herself.  In  her  earlier  and  romantic  days,  she  hoped  to  find 
money,  beauty,  and  talent  united ;  but  a  long  and  diligent 
search  for  these  hidden  treasures  has  convinced  her  that  the 
gods  bestowed  these  gifts  as  solitaires  —  never  set  them  in 
clusters.  You  can  guess  how  she  rattles  this  nonsense  off." 

"  She  is  a  heartless,  scheming  coquette,  who  has  sold  her- 
self for  money,"  observed  the  married  sister,  energetically. 
"I  am  glad  you  see  through  her  plausible  mask  at  last,, 


340  "FOK  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

Anna  !  I  have  never  liked  her  since  she  angled  so  boldly  fol 
Sydney,  that  lirst  summer  she  spent  with  us  at  Hawksnest. 
I  chanced  to  overhear  a  portion  of  her  conversation  with 
him  upon  the  piazza,  the  evening  before  he  left  for  Saratoga. 
You  remember  how  surprised  the  rest  of  the  family  were 
when  he  announced  his  resolution  to  set  off  immediately  for 
the  Springs.  The  girl  positively  shocked  me  by  her  daring 
wiles.  She  almost  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  yet  she  looked 
so  beautiful  and  talked  so  artfully  that  most  men  would  have 
fallen  headlong  into  her  snare  without  seeing  it.  Sydney 
heard  all  her  sentimentalisnis,  and  answered  all  her  cunning 
questions,  as  a  married  man  of  fifty  might  have  replied  to  a 
child  of  twelve,  whose  pertness  amused  him.  But  when  she 
had  gone  up  stairs,  he  came  to  my  room  and  told  me  what 
had  happened.  '  This  is  getting  to  be  rather  too  strong  fox' 
my  taste,'  he  said.  'I  don't  want  to  marry  the  girl.  If  I 
stay  here  I  must  either  flirt  with,  or  be  rude  to  her.  I  shall 
take  refuge  in  flight.  She  is  young  and  inexperienced. 
She  will  learn  wisdom  in  time.'  " 

"  Why  have  you  never  told  me  this  before  ?  "  asked  Kate 
sharply. 

Both  sisters  started  at  the  tone.  "  For  two  reasons,  my 
dear,"  rejoined  Mrs  Risley.  "  I  did  not  like  to  prejudice 
you  unnecessarily  against  Rita;  she  is  a  spoiled  beauty, 
whose  mother  died  when  she  was  a  child.  It  seemed  unkind 
to  say  anything  about  what  I  was  convinced  was  her  early 
disappointment  in  husband-hunting,  so  long  as  she  remained 
single  or  disengaged.  Besides  these  scruples,  I  never  doubted 
but  that  Sydney  had  enlightened  you  as  to  the  character 
of  the  'flirtation'  to  which  Eliza  had  so  often  i\ 
Women  of  Rita's  stamp  never  die  with  unrequited  affection.1 
They  sear  over  the  wound,  which  is  oftener  in  their  self- 
osteeni  than  in  their  hearts,  and  ''  — 

"  Harry  Mr.  Peppers,  with  diamond  pins  as  big  as  cart* 


341 


wheels  and  purses  deep  as  wells  !  "  finished  .A  mm.  "  Ks 
isn't  as  tall  as  she  is  by  half  a  head  !  How  conlcl  she  ever 
look  at  him  a  second  time,  if  she  had  once  fancied  herself 
in  love  with  our  noble,  splendid,  gallant  Syd  !  " 

When  the  sisters  had  gone,  Kate  lay  still  in  the  twilight, 
thinking  over  the  story  she  had  heard.  Once  in  his  life,  then, 
it  appeared  that  her  husband  had  resisted  the  enchantments 
that  overthrew  his  defences  at  a  later  day.  With  respect 
to  that  earlier  entanglement,  she  had  wronged  him.  He  had 
spoken  truly  in  protesting  that,  up  to  his  marriage,  he  had 
never  known  a  sentiment  of  affection  for  the  syren  that  had 
wrought  his  subsequent  ruin.  Could  there  be,  also,  a  grain 
of  truth  in  the  solemn  asseveration  he  had  pressed  home 
upon  her  memory,  in  the  persuasion  ''  that  the  time  might 
come  when  it  would  comfort  her  to  remember  it  "  ? 

It  had  not  come  yet!  She  cbuld  defend  him,  to  her 
sister,  from  the  charge  of  neglecting  to  provide  aright  for  her 
happiness  and  well-being  during  the  present  trying  season  of 
her  life  ;  might  keep  up  before  his  relatives  and  the  world 
a  brave  and  comely  show  of  wifely  duty,  but  at  the  secret 
tribunal  of  her  heart  he  stood  a  condemned  criminal  still, 
recommended  to  mercy  by  naught  save  the  occasional  weak 
wail  of  the  woman's  nature,  that  yet  clung  with  tenacity 
which  Reason  called  infatuation,  to  the  mixed  clay  and  metal 
that  made  up  the  idol  she  had  formerly  worshipped  with 
spirit,  will,  and  reason.  A  stern  look  —  a  fierce  despair  — 
came  over  her  countenance  now  as  she  conned,  for  the  thou- 
sandth time,  the  history  of  her  married  life. 

"  He  has  robbed  me  of  everything  !  He  took  me  from  my 
father's  house  —  from  my  free,  happy,  hopeful  girl-life,  •with 
its  atmosphere  of  protecting  love  and  tenderness;  he  has 
torn  away  the  brighter  existence  I  had  pictured  to  my  self  as 
growing  up  beneath  his  promised  love  and  care.  Stripped 
of  hope  and  love,  as  well  as  joy,  I  am  nothing  better  tha.u  n 
SU* 


312  "FOB  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE." 

piece  of  dead  driftwood  at  the  mersy  of  every  wave.  I  gave 
him  my  all,  and  he  cast  it  from  him.  Oh,  my  lost  love ! 
my  beautiful,  beautiful  dreams  !  my  wasted  life  !  " 

The  poor,  thin  fingers  could  not  keep  back  the  tears,  and 
her  growing  weakness  rendered  her  less  able,  each  day,  to 
maintain  a  semblance  of  calm  resignation  to  Fate.  She  was 
not  the  strong,  self-contained  woman  she  had  been  when  her 
husband  pleaded  vainly  for  her  pardon.  She  could  not  have 
looked  into  his  eyes,  to-day,  and  told  him  of  her  lost  faith 
in  his  truth.  She  trembled  and  wept  in  the  extremity  of  her 
desolation,  as  the  feeblest  girl  might  have  done.  Had  she 
asked  herself  the  cause  of  this  distress,  she  would  have  an- 
swered in  the  same  spirit  as  did  the  consumptive  girl  whose 
"  e/e  me  regrette"  is,  if  one  of  the  most  egotistical,  one  of 
the  most  pathetic  plaints  upon  record.  A  wasted  life !  a 
lost  love !  departed  faith.  Grant  the  truth  of  these  three 
bereavements,  and  what  has  earth  left  in  her  gift  that  is 
worth  a  glance  of  the  depressed  eye,  the  lifting  of  the 
nerveless  hand  ?  Only  Duty,  and  Duty  is  a  grim  substitute 
for  Love  and  Hope. 

"  He  will  come  home  when  he  hears  that  site  is  married  !  " 
she  said,  in  the  lessening  throes  of  the  paroxysm.  "It  will 
be  several  months  before  that  happens,  and  then  I  shall  not 
be  here !  " 

April  passed,  May  came  and  went,  and  the  long,  hot  June 
days  brought  to  the  public  mind  alluring  pictures  of  country 
houses  and  rural,  or  seaside  watering-places.  The  Bentleys 
would  not  leave  town  for  the  shades  and  mountain  airs  of 
Hawksnest  so  early  as  usual,  this  year.  One  and  all,  they 
were  uneasy  about  Kate.  Her  wan  face,  sunken  eyes, 
cr3eping  step,  and  fluttering  breath  awoke  the  serious 
apprehensions  in  view  of  the  approaching  draught  upon  her 
strength.  She  surveyed  the  prospect  that  alarmed  then? 
with  apparent  calmness  Once,  she  had  talked  openly  to 


343 


Mrs.  Risley  of  her  belief  that  she  would  not  survive  her 
sickness. 

"  I  have  few  worldly  preparations  to  make  for  the  change," 
she  said.  "  It  is  seldom  that  a  wife  and  mother  can  be  so 
easily  spared.  My  death  rwill  not  be  a  very  sad  inconveni- 
ence to  any  one.  You  will  take  Lulu  and  care  for  her  as 
you  do  for  your  own  children.  You  have  no  little  girl.  I 
give  you  mine.  If  her  father  should  —  I  mean  when  he 
shall  marry  again,  I  think  he  will  respect  my  wish,  and  let 
her  stay  with  you.  I  do  not  want  her  to  be  subject  to  a  step- 
mother's whims.  Your  rule  will  be  more  mild  than  mine. 
Sydney  always  said  that  I  was  too  rigid ;  that  he  was,  at 
times,  afraid  of  me.  It  would  have  hurt  me  to  see  her 
learn  to  shrink  from  her  mother." 

Mrs.  Risley  was  weeping,  while  the  speaker  did  not  shed 
a  tear. 

"And  your  husband?"  interrogated  the  former.  "If 
your  presentiment  should  prove  to  be  correct,  —  which  I 
hope  and  pray  may  not  come  to  pass,  —  what  shall  I  say  to 
my  poor,  distracted  brother  ?" 

"lie  will  suffer  for  a  little  while!"  rejoined  Kate,  smil- 
ing sadly.  "  He  has  a  tender  heart,  poor  fellow  !  But  he 
will  need  no  message  from  me  other  than  a  repetition  of 
what  I  have  often  said  to  you,  —  that  I  never  blamed  him 
for  going  when  he  did.  It  was  the  only  thing  for  him  to 
tlo  in  the  circumstances.  His  absence  has  spared  him 
sorrow  and  anxiety,  and  he  was  not  made  to  cope  with 
trouble." 

About  a  week  after  this  conversation,  as  Kate  was  alone, 
one  afternoon,  in  her  up-stairs  sitting-room,  the  maid  —  a 
new  servant — brought  up' word  that  a  lady  wished  to  see 
her.  She  had  given  no  name,  and  would  not  detain  Mrs. 
Beutley  ten  minutes,  but  she  must  see  her  upon  important 


SM  "FOK  BETTER,  FOR  WOKSE." 

business.  Languidly  wondering  at  this  message,  Kate  or- 
dered her  to  be  shown  up. 

A  rush  of  blood  bathed  her  white  cheeks  as  Rita  Lain- 
bort,  insolently  gorgeous  in  the  ripeness  of  her  beauty, 
sailed  in.  "With  her  blooming  complexion,  full,  laughing 
eyes,  and  rich  round  tones,  she  seemed  to  absorb  what  little 
of  vital  force  yet  remained  in  the  invalid's  trembling  frame. 
She  could  just  incline  her  head  in  reply  to  the  gracious 
salutations  poured  forth  by  the  intruder,  and  point  to  a 
chair  more  distant  from  hers  than  Rita  had  evidently  de- 
signed to  take. 

"As  you  please  !"-said  Mr.  Pepper's  affianced,  swimming 
oif  to  the  position  designated.  "  I  beg  your  pardon  for  for- 
getting, until  this  moment,  that  you  dislike  the  perfume  cf 
tuberoses.  I  never  use  any  other  extract.  It  suits  my 
style  so  well,  and  I  like  to  identify  myself  with  one  flower 
—  to  make  its  essence  a  part  of  my  individuality.  Violets, 
verbenas,  and  heliotropes,  are  well  enough  in  their  way,  but 
they  are  niissish  —  only  fit  for  school-girls.  How  are  you 
to  day  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  far  from  well,"  rejoined  Kate.  "  I  must  ask 
you  to  state  your  errand  as  briefly  as  possible.  I  cannot 
endure  much  fatigue." 

"  Nor  I  spare  much  time  !  I  am  to  ride  with  Mr.  Pepper 
at  half-past  six.  I  shall  leave  town  to-morrow  to  return  no 
more  as  Miss  Lambert.  I  am  to  be  married  in  September, 
from  the  country  house  of  my  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Smythe. 
You  will  receive  cards ;  and  let  me  assure  you,  at  this  early 
date,  that  Mr.  Pepper  and  myself  will  account  ourselves 
higlily  honored  by  your  presence  on  the  happy  occasion." 

Again  Kate  bowed,  silently. 

Rita  opened  a  white  fan,  from  which  fresh  waves  of  he! 
favorite  perfume  flowed  towards  Kate  with  each  sway  of 
the  snowy  plumes.  "  I  have  been  very  bu:;y  all  day,"  pur- 


"FOR   IJICTTKR,    FOB    WORSJS."  3i5 

sued  the  visitor,  not  hurrying  herself  in  the  slightest  degiee, 
41  oo  tiling  accounts  is  generally  esteemed  an  unpleasant  task, 
but  I  quite  enjoy  it.  It  is  such  a  comfortable  feeling  to  be 
fissured  that  one  leaves  clean  scores  behind  her  everywhere. 
And  that  is  why  I  am  here.  You  have  a  trifling  account 
against  me  of  six  months1  standing.  You  have  been  labor- 
ing under  the  impression  ever  since  the  last  night  I  spent 
here  that  I  had  won  your  husband  from  his  allegiance  to 
you  —  iu  plainer  English,  that  he  had  been  making  love  to 
mo.  You  are  mistaken.  I  did  try  my  hand  on  him,  I  con- 
fess. It  is  a  habit  I  have.  I  never  see  a  man  who  is 
tolerably  attractive,  that  the  desire  does  not  seize  me  to 
make  him  acknowledge  my  attractions.  I  enjoy  admira- 
tion. So  do  all  other  women,  but  most  of  them  are 
ashamed  to  own  it.  I  tried  hard  to  persuade  your  hand- 
some, brilliant  husband  to  find  me  also  handsome  and  fasci- 
nating. I  amused  him,  and  he  rather  liked  me.  Liked  to 
talk  and  sing  with  me,  and  look  at  me  as  he  did  at  other 
go-.".!  pictures.  I  dul  not  fancy  you.  I  do  not  like  you 
now,  but  I  mean  to  set  you  an  example  of  magnanimity. 
When  I  fell  to  crying  on  that  memorable  night,  my  head 
somehow  dropped  against  Sydney's  shoulder.  There  was 
no  harm  in  that.  We  had  known  each  other  for  years  and 
years.  Maybe  he  patted  it — I  really  forget  whether  he 
did  or  not;  but  he  did  not  talk  love  to  me,  or  kiss  me. 
lie  was  as  cold  as  any  great-uncle,  until  he  spied  you 
standing  in  the  libraiy-cloor,  and  then  he  flew  into  a  tower- 
lug  rage  at  me,  charging  me  with  having  ruined  him,  calling 
you  an  angel,  and  all  such  extravagances.  This  is  the 
linked  truth.  I  ought  to  have  undeceived  you  then,  I  sup- 
pose. I  did  feel  shocked  when  I  heard  that  he  was  goiiig 
oil'  in  a  hurry,  to  the  other  side  of  the  globe,  for  I  su.iuiced 
that  ifc  was  because  you  wouldn't  live  with  him  0,1'tcr  what 
iuiJ  happened.  But  it  costs  one'w  pride  soinetluijg  to  make 


346 


fc  confession  like  this.  I  am  a  fool_to  do  it  now ;  but  Eliza 
said  you  were  sick  and  low-spirited,  and  I  thought  perhaps 
my  amusing  story  might  enliven  you  somewhat." 

"  You  mean  that  you  heard  I  was  a  dying  woman,  and 
the  thought  of  my  ill-will  made  you  uncomfortable,"  an- 
swered Kate,  in  a  stronger  voice  than  that  in  which  she  had 
before  spoken.  "  I  am  glad  to  find  that  your  conscience  is 
not  altogether  callous.  You  are  about  to  marry.  I  am  not 
surprised  that  you  feared  to  enter  your  new  estate  with 
this  unconfessed  sin  resting  \ipon  your  soul.  I,  too,  will  be 
candid.  Grievous  as  was  your  guilt,  by  your  own  showing, 
you  did  not  murder  my  happiness.  If  your  feeble  hand 
could  have  crushed  it,  it  would  not  have  been  worth  the 
trouble  of  preserving.  Mr.  Bentley,  long  ago,  informed  me 
what  was  the  real  nature  of  your  connection  with  him.  I 
am  conversant  with  all  the  facts  of  the  case.  I  hope  the 
mutual  confidence  of  Mr.  Pepper  and  yourself  will  be  strong 
enough  to  defy  the  attacks  of  suspicion  and  jealousy ;  that 
the  efforts  of  your  rivals  to  dethrone  you  in  his  affections 
will  be  as  ineffectual  as  yours  have  proved  in  this  instance." 

She  had  sat  erect  in  her  chair  to  deliver  this  reply,  and 
now  dragged  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  upon  Rita's  rising 
to  go. 

"I  might  have  spared  myself  the  time  and  pains  spent 
upon  this  business,  it  seems,"  said  her  visitor,  still  saucily, 
although  her  rosy  cheek  had  put  on  a  deeper  tint,  and  she 
bit  her  lip  before  speaking.  "  There  is  a  satisfaction  in 
doing  right  for  right's  sake,  I  have  heard  good  people  say. 
1  suppose  this  act  will  be  set  down  to  my  account  some- 
where. Good-by.  Give  my  love  to  Sydney  when  you 
write." 

The  cook  came  in,  as  the  billows  of  tuberose  odor  were 
rolling  down  the  stairs. 

"  1'oor  IV'ggy  Mohun  is  in  the  kitchen,  mum,  in  great  dis- 


"FOR  BETTER,   FOR    WORSE."  34? 

tress.     Her   man  has   been  taken  off  to  jail,  and  she  has 
come  to  ask  you  the  what  she'll  do  to  get  him  out." 

Peggy  had  been  Kate's  maid  in  her  girlish  days  ;  had  fol- 
lowed her  to  her  new  home  when  she  married,  and  herself 
.  wedded,  a  year  later,  a  good-looking  young  rascal  of  an  Irish- 
'  man,  who  had  kept  her  in  hot  water  ever  since. 

"  Say  that  I  can  see  her  for  five  minutes  — no  more  I" 
replied  Kate,  desperately.  "  I  am  very  tired  already." 

Peggy  carried  upon  her  breast  a  babe  two  months  old, 
and  behind  her  came  her  mother,  a  respectable-looking  body, 
with  another  —  a  stout  boy  of  fourteen  months,  in  her  arms. 
Peggy's  face  was  stained  with  tears,  and  was  further  dis- 
figured by  a  large  bruise  upon  the  left  cheek.  The  mother 
wore  an  air  of  angry  discontent. 

"  Well,  Peggy,"  began  her  former  mistress,  "  what  is  the 
new  trouble?" 

"  It's  the  ould  one,  mem  !  "  put  in  the  mother,  before  the 
sorrowing  wife  could  open  her  lips^  and,  with  characteristic 
Milesian  eloquence,  she  proceeded  to  unfold  the  case.  Brian 
Mohun  —  "bad  luck  to  him!"  —  had  been  on  a  "frolic" 
for  a  week ;  had  drunk  up  every  penny  he  had  in  the  world ; 
pawned  his  best  clothes  and  his  wifo's  besides,  and  wound 
up  his  list  of  misdemeanors  by  beating  the  unoffending 
Peggy,  until  her  mother's  screams  —  not  her  own  — 
brought  in  a  policeman,  who  trotted  off  the  truculent  pater 
familias  to  the  nearest  station.  The  next  morning  Peggy 
was  unable  to  leave  her  bed,  and  ignorant  of  the  need  of 
her  doing  so.  The  mother  slipped  out  and  appeared  against 
her  promising  son-in-law  at  the  justice's  court,  and,  aided 
by  the  policeman  and  the  doctor  who  had  been  called  in  to 
dress  Peggy's  wounds,  made  out  so  black  a  case  that  the 
prisoner  was  sentenced  to  three  months'  imprisonment  in 
the  city  jail. 

"  Which  I  never  would  have  give  evidence  that  would 


34:8  "FOE  BETTER,  FOE  WOKSE." 

have  hurt  a  hair  of  his  head,  Miss  Kate  ?  "  interposed  the 
sobbing  Peggy.  "  And  I  shall  take  it  hard  of  mother  to  my 
dying  day  that  she  took  advantage  of  his  being  overtaken, 
whin  sho  knows  there  niver  breathed  a  kinder  man  nor  he 
vras  when  he  was  himself.  Nor  was  it  kind  to  the  poor 
childher,  the  innocents  !  Their  father  will  be  breaking  hia 
heart  for  the  sight  of  thim  for  three  long  months,  and  whin 
lie  does  come  out  the  disgrace  will  be  on  him,  and  the  how 
will  he  iver  hould  up  his  head  ag'in  —  he  that  used  to  be  so 
proud  and  bould !" 

"  The  disgrace  is  not  that  he  has  been  to  jail,  Peggy," 
said  Mrs.  Bentley.  "It  is  that  he  was  so  wicked  and  cow- 
ardly as  to  lift  his  hand  against  you  —  a  woman  and  his 
wife." 

"  It  was  the  liquor,  mem !  "  pleaded  the  wife,  eagerly. 
"  He  wouldn't  hurt  a  iiy,  except  whin  he  had  taken  a  glass. 
He  was  the  best  husband  in  the  land  !  " 

"Jist  to  hear  her!  "  said  the  ojigry  mother.  "  Sorraa  bit 
does  he  care  whether  she  has  a  bed  under  or  a  blanket  over 
her,  so  long  as  he  has  his  tipple !  But  for  me,  mem,  she 
and  the  bit  ones  would  have  starved  and  froze  "  — 

"  Hush,  mother,  darlint ! :'  prayed  Peggy,  gently  and 
sorrowfully.  "The  poor,  lad  is  down  now,  and  it  looks 
mane  to  be  picking  up  his  faults.  It's  not  for  the  likes  of 
me  to  stand  by  and  hear  them  talked  of.  For  he  is  me  hus- 
band, Miss  Kate,  and  I've  promised  to  be  thrue  to  him  — 
thrue  till  death;  and  it's  like  cutting  a  vein  of  me  heart 
to  go  ag'inst  him.  And  the  baby  is  the  very  moral  of  him, 
mem !  "  turning  the  tiny  creature  towards  Mrs.  Bentley,  with 
maternal  cunning,  not  doubting  but  the  resemblance  that 
appealed  continually  to  her  charity  would  have  its  effect 
upon  the  lady. 

"I  am  sorry  to  seem  unkind,  Peggy,"  was  the  reply. 
'But  I  honestly  think  that  your  husband  has  acted  very 


349 


bad]  y,  fiud  that  lie  ouglit  to  bo  punished  severely.  If  lie  loved 
you  and  your  children,  lie  would  have  conducted  himself 
very  differently." 

"  Arrals,  Miss  Kate !  and  it's  tho  sad  thoughts  I  have 
upon  me  lonely  bed  of  nights.  I  niind  the  many  times  I've 
been  thried  with  him  —  and  I've  a  tamper  of  me  own  !  and 
whin  he's  come  in,  a  bit  the  worse  for  dhrink,  or  jist  whin 
the  fit  was  going  off,  I've  been  sore-hearted  and  impatient, 
and  spake  sharp  to  him.  I'm  afeared  I've  dhriv  him  back 
to  his  cups  whin  I  might  a-coaxed  him  away  from  thim,  as 
'twas  my  right  to  do.  For  it's  his  wife  I  am,  Miss  Kate, 
and  it  was  yourself  put  the  good  word  into  me  mouth  whin 
I  tould  you  I  was  maning  to  marry  Brian.  'It's  a  solemn 
thing,  Peggy,'  says  you.  '  It's  for  life  you  are  taking  him. 
Through  evil  report  and  good  report,'  says  you;  'for  bet- 
ter and  for  worse ! '  Don't  thry  to  turn  away  me  heart 
from  him  now  that  the  evil  report  and  the  worse  has  come ! " 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can  for  you !  "  gasped  Kate,  faintly. 
"  You  are  a  good,  brave  wife,  Peggy  !  But  please  go  now. 
I  am  feeling  very  sick  and  weary  !  " 

When  the  maid,  alarmed  by  the  woman's  report,  hurried 
up  to  her  mistress'  room,  she  knocked  several  times  without 
receiving  an  answer,  'then,  undoing  the  latch  softly,  she 
peeped  in.  Mrs.  Bentley  knelt  before  her  easy  chair,  her 
face  hidden  upon  her  arms,  sobbing  violently,  ejaculating 
brokenly,  and,  to  the  girl,  unintelligibly. 

"  But  I  think  she  was  praying  foj-  Mr.  Bentley,"  reported 
the  girl,  afterwards,  to  Mrs.  Ixislcy.  "  She  said  '  Sydney,' 
three  times  over.  And  in  less  than  half  an  hour  her  bell 
mng,  and  she  told  me  to  send  for  you  and  the  doctor,  for 
she  was  cruel  sick  !  " 

About  midnight  Mrs.  Hisley  received  her  brother's  son  in 
hor  embrace,  and  took  him  out  of  hearing  of  the  sick-room. 
111:.;.!!  fever  and  delirium  hud  set  in  before  Kate  recognized 
SO 


350 


tlie  existence  of  her  babe  by  look  or  caress,  and  llio  danger 
of  supervening  convulsions  was  imminent.  Only  the  hired 
nurse  sat  by  the  bedside  where  Sydney  Bentley's  darling  was 
battling  for  her  life.  Her  moans  and  cries  fell  upon  dull, 
unsympathizing  ears,  except  when  Mrs.  Eisley  and  Anna 
crept  to  the  threshold  and  wept  to  hear  their  brother's  name 
repeated  in  every  intonation  of  love  and  entreaty. 

On  the  tenth  night  she  grew  more  quiet;  ceased  to  toss 
and  mutter,  and  finally  lay  still,  breathing  softly  as  in 
slumber.  It  was  near  daylight  when  she  unclosed  her  eyes. 
The  room  was  in  deep  shadow,  but  there  was  light  in  the 
next  one,  and  low  voices  were  audible  through  the  open 
door. 

"  Her  life  hangs  upon  a  thread !  "  said  the  family  physi- 
cian, mournfully;  and  a  woman  answered,  "  She  will  not  last 
through  the  day,  in  my  opinion ! "  Then  they  began  to 
whisper. 

She  was  then  dying !  She  had  contemplated  this  event 
with  philosophical  coolness,  if  not  sentimental  complacency. 
But  by  the  great  terror  that  fell  upon  her  spirit  —  the  horror 
of  loneliness  and  dread  of  the  judgment  to  come  —  she 
knew  that  she  had  never  understood  what  death  was.  She 
strove  to  put  her  hands  together;  to  articulate  with  her 
palsied  tongue  some  form  of  prayer.  It  was  the  clutch  at  a 
straw  of  a  soul  drowning  in  the  ocean  of  Eternity,  that 
rolled  in  cold  surges  higher  and  higher  with  each  priceless 
second. 

"  Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  those  who  tres- 
2~>ass  against  us." 

Nothing  else  came  in  response  to  her  desperate  effort. 
Still  drowning,  the  past  crowded  fast  and  distinctly  upon  her 
recollection.  Implacable,  pitiless  in  judgment  and  in  con- 
demnation, she  had  lived  unforgiving,  and  slio  was  dying 
uiilbrgiven.  Quick  to  see  and  ready  to  censure  her  husband's 


"FOE    BETTER,    FOR    WORSE."  ".">l 

fruiltu,  she  Lad  never  striven  in  love  and  faithfulness  to 
correct  these.  Still  less  had  she  put  them  steadfastly  out  of 
sight,  and,  by  dwelling  upon  his  gentleness  and  generosity, 
his  affection  for,  and  forbearance  with  her,  so  magnified 
the  lustre  of  his  fine  qualities  as  to  lose  sight  of  the  spots 
that  disfigured  his  character.  She  had  been  no  wife  to  him 
—  but  a  rigid,  unsparing  ciitic,  whose  severity  had  driven 
him  to  avert  her  displeasure  by  deception,  to  seek  happiness 
in  other  associations  than  her  society.  She  envied  poor 
Peggy,  with  her  bruised  cheek  and  aching,  loyal  heart.  "  It's 
like  cutting  a  vein  in  my  heart  to  go  against  him ! "  had 
pleaded  the  ill-used  wife.  And  she,  petted,  pampered,  wor- 
shipped as  she,  at  this  late  hour,  believed  that  she  had  been, 
had  banished  her  husband  from  home  and  country — perjured 
herself —  lost  her  life  and  her  soul ! 

"  As  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us !  " 

He  would  never  know  that  she  had  forgiven  him ;  that 
against  her  will  she  had  loved  him  always;  that  her  last 
thought  was  made  up  of  longing  for  him  and  remorse  for  the 
sorrow  she  had  cost  him ;  useless  regrets  and  vain  yearnings 
for  a  glimpse  of  him  —  a  word  of  endearment  —  a  silent  kiss  ! 
She  had  chosen  to  live  alone ;  to  suffer  without  companion- 
ship and  sympathy.  She  must  die  alone  !  Still  struggling, 
she  was  swept  out  into  cold  and  darkness. 

Tones  called  her  back  that  might  almost  have  pierced  the 
ear  of  the  dead. 

"  Kate  !  my  precious  wife  !  "  Then  a  deep  sob  and  an 
impassioned  murmur,  —  "  O  God  !  spare  my  best  beloved  ! ' 

The  least  possible  tinge  of  color  warmed  the  pallid  lips 
and  cheeks ;  the  dark  eyes  opened  slowly  upon  a  manly  face 
bathed  in  tears. 

"  Stand  back !  "  ordered  the  doctor.  "  She  knows  you  ! 
The  shock  will  be  too  greut !  " 

"  It  will  do  her  good  !     It  has  revived  her  already  !  "  cried 


352  "FOE  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE/' 

Sydney,  not  offering  to  rise  from  his  knees,  or  to  withdrav 
his  arm  from  beneath  his  wife's  pillow. 

Kate  smiled,  like  a  weak,  happy  child,  and  whispered  one 
Nvord,  —  "Stay!" 

'•'Always,  darling." 

Sue  rallied  in  the  sunshine  of  his  presence  with  a  rapidity 
that  won  from  those  who  heard  the  particulars  of  her  extreme 
iiluess,  extravagant  encomiums  upon  the  doctor's  skill.  He 
had,  it  was  asserted,  snatched  Mrs.  Bentley  from  the  jaws 
of  death,  an  achievement  made  more  arduous  by  the  relapse 
she  luicl  had  at  sight  of  her  newly  returned  husband.  Kate 
knew  better  than  all  this,  but  she  could  afford  to  let  the 
world  form  its  own  opinion.  It  was  enough  for  her  to 
believe  that  she  owed  her  recovery,  under  Heaven,  to  the 
powerful  magnetism  of  the  agonizing  love  that  would  not  let 
go  its  hold  at  the  bidding  of  the  grim  enemy  himself,  and 
that  she  purposed  solemnly  and  gratefully  to  devote  that 
restored  life,  next  to  that  Heaven,  to  her  husband. 

Mru.  Risley  had  written  secretly  to  her  brother  upon 
learning  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  especial  need  that 
existed  for  his  presence.  Within  an  hour  after  the  receipt 
of  the  letter,  he  was  on  board  ship  bound  for  his  native 
land. 

And  they  lived  together  happily  ever  afterward  ? 

I  .have  not  said  it.  Both  had  great  and  stubborn  faults, 
strengthened  by  years  of  indulgence,  and  the  eyes  of  each 
were  fairly  open  to  the  existence  of  these  in  the  other. 
Love  works  miracles,  but  the  progress  of  these  improve- 
ments is  slow.  Nor  is  the  agent  in  these  transformations  the 
unreasoning,  idealistic  affection  that  rarely  outlives  tlie  first 
half-year  of  married  life.  Kate  had  ceased  to  adore  her 
handsome  husbaitd,  but  the  fulness  of  humility  and  gentlest 
charity  that  h:ul  supplanted  -idolatry  led  her  to  strive  to 
restore  UK;  warped  lines  uf  hi-;  character  to  the  just  perpcr 


"  FOR   BETTER,    FOR   WORSE."  353 

dicular,  win  him  to  complete  confidence  in  her  love,  and  tha 
certainty  of  her  lenient  judgment  of  his  shortcomings;  to 
overlook  foibles,  and  do  honor  to  traits  that  were  in 
tnemselves  good  and  commendable. 

"He  may  have  been  weak.  It  is  certain  that  I  waa 
wicked.  "Who  am  I  that  I  should  judge  him?"  she  had 
t'i  oijuent  occasion  to  say  to  herself. 

And  from  the  reflection  would  arise  such  meekness  of 
spirit,  such  tenderness  of  bearing  and  language  as  put  Syd- 
ney upon  his  guard  against  the  besetting  sins  that  might 
wound  this  kindest,  most  loving  of  monitors.  Of  the  trying 
initial  period  to  their  domestic  peace  they  never  speak ;  sel- 
dom remember  it,  except  in  their  prayers.  It  is  not  pleasant 
to  recall  a  great  agony,  although  it  may  have  been  the  birth 
throe  of  joy  as  great.  "When  the  wife  was  strong  enough  to 
bear  it,  they  had  one  long  frank  conversation  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  their  estrangement. 

Once,  some  months  later,  Sydney  would  have  renewed  the 
subject,  beginning  with  a  self-depreciating  remark. 

Kate  checked  him  by  a  caress,  serious  and  sweet.  "  That 
is  a  sealed  book  !  "  she  said.  "  Forgiveness  without  forget- 
fuiuoss  is  a  mockery.  " 


7E3  EKD. 


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Miscellaneous  Works. 

How  to  Make  Money  ;  and  How  to  Krep  It.— By  Thomas  A.  Davies. ? 

Tales  from  the  Operas. — A  collection  o.  Stories  based  upon  the  plots 

New  Nonsense  Rhymes. — By  W.  H.  Beckett,  with  illustrations  by  C.  G.  Bush. . 

Wood's  Guide  to  the  City  of  New  York. — Beautifully  illustrated 

The  Art  of  Amusing. — A  book  of  home  amusements,  with  Illustrations 

A  Book  About  Lawyers. — A  curious  and  interesting  volume.     By  Jeaflreson 

A  Book  About  Doctors.  Do.  Do.  Do 

The  Birth  and  Triumph  of  Love. — Full  of  exquisite  tinted  illustrations. 

Progressive  Petticoats.— A  satirical  tale  by  Robert  B.  Roosevelt 

Ecce  Femina  ;  or,  The  Woman  Zoe. — Cuyler  Pine,  author  "Mary  Brandegec." 

Women  and  Theatres. — A  bright  and  readable  book  by  Olive   Logan 

Souvenirs  of  Travel.— By  Madame  Octavia  Walton  Le  Vert 

Woman,  Love  and  Marriage. — A  spicy  little  work  by  Fred  Saunders 

Shiftless  Folks.— A  brilliant  new  novel  by  Fannie  Smith 

A  Woman  in  Armor. — A  powerful  new  novel  by  Mary  Hartwell 

Female  Beauty  and  the  Art  of  Pleasing.— From  the  Ficnch 

Transformation  Scenes  in  the  United  States. — By  1  liram  Fuller 

The  Fall  of  Man.— A  Darwinian  satire.     By  author  "New  Gospel  Peace." 

The  Chronicles  of  Gotham. — A  modem  satire.        Do.  Do.  

The  Story  of  a  Summer. — Journal  leaves  by  Cecelia  Cleveland 

Phemie  Frost's  Experiences. — By  Mrs.  Ann  S.  Stephens 


Miscellaneous  Novels. 

A  Charming  Widow. — Macquoid.$i  75  '  Four  Oaks. — Kamba  Thorpe 5 

True  to  Him  Ever.— By  F.  W.  R. . 
The  Forgiving  Kiss.— By  M.  Loth. 
Loyal  Unto  Death  „. 


Bessie  Wilmerton.—  Westcott 

Cachet.— .Mrs.  M.  J.  R.  Hamilton... 
Mark  Gildersleeve.— J.  S.  Sauzade. 

Crown  Jewels.— Mrs.  Moffat 

Avery  Glibun.-  Orpheus  C.  K.err... 
The  Cloven  Foot. —  Do 

Romance  of  Railroad. — Smith 

Fairfax. — John  Esten  Cooke 

Hilt  to  Hilt.—      Do 

Out  of  the  Foam. —  

Hammer  and  Rapier. —     

Kenneth,  My  King.— S.  A.  Brock. . 
Heart  Hungry.-M.  J.  Westmoreland 
Clifford  Troupe.—  Do. 


50  |  Maurice. — From  the  French 

75  I  Purple  and  Fine  Linen.— Fawcett. 

75    Faustina. — From  the  German 

75  '  Adrift  with  a  Ve-gear.ce 

75    Adrift  in  Dixie.— Kdmund  Kirke.. 
75  !  Among  the  Guerillas. —    Do. 


Among  the  Pines.— 


Do. 


Luju.— 
Hotspur.— 
Stormcliff.— 
75    Delaplaine.— 
75!  Beverly.— 


Miscellaneous  Works. 


My  Southern  Friends.—  Do.      ... 
Down  in  Tennessee. —      Do. 
Ebon  and  Gold.— C.  L.  Mcllvain... 
Robert  Greathouse.— J.  F.  Swift.. 
Warwick.— By  M.  T.  Walworth.... 


Do. 
Do. 
Do. 
Do. 
Do. 


oo     Northern  Ballads.— Anderson ! 

50    O.  C.  Kerr  Papers. — 


50    Victor  Hugo.-His  life.... 

50    Beauty  is  Power 

50    Sandwiches.— Ar 


Beldazzle's  Bachelor  Studies j 

Little  Wanderers.— Illustrated 

Genesis  Disclosed.— T.  A.  Davies.. 

Commodore  Rollingpin's  Log 

Brazen  Gates. — A  juvenile  

Antidote  to  Gates  Ajar 25  cts.  ]  Widow  Spriggins.— Widow  Be.lott 

The  Snoblace  Ball    Do 25  cts.  !  Squibob  Papers.— John  Phoenix 

Miscellaneous  Works. 

Bill  Arp's  Peace  Papers. — Full  of  comic  illustrations 

A  Book  of  Epitaphs.— Amusing,  quaint,  and  curious      (New.) 

Ballad  of  Lord  Bateman. — With  illustrations  by  Cruikshank  (paper) 

The  Yachtman's  Primer. — For  amateur  sailors.     T.  R.  Warren  (palmer) 

Rural  Architecture.— r,y  M.  Field.     With  plans  and  illustrations 

'ng. — By  Horace  (Irceley. 


v  01  Farming.— i:y 

Twelve  Views  of  Heaven. — By  Twelve  Distinguished  Knglish  Divines... 
Houses  Not  Made  With  Hands.— A  juvenile,  illustrated  t>y  Hoppin... 
Impending  Crisis  oi  the  South. — By  1  i niton  Rowan  Helper 


CHAELES  DICKENS'  WOKES. 


A  Xcw  Edition. 

Among  the  many  editions  of  the  works  of  this  greatest  of 
English  Novelists,  there  has  not  been  until  now  one  that  entirely 
satisfies  the  public  Demand. — Without  exception,  they  each  have 
some  strong  distinctive  objection, — either  the  form  and  dimensions 
of  the  volumes  are  unhandy — or,  the  type  is  small  and  indistinct — 
or.  the  illustrations  are  unsatisfactory — or,  the  binding  is  poor — or, 
the  price  is  too  high. 

An  entirely  new  edition  is  now,  however,  published  by  G.  W. 
Carleton  &  Co.  of  New  York,  which,  it  is  believed,  will,  in  every 
respect,  completely  satisfy  the  popular  demand. — It  is  known  as 

"Carleton's  New  Illustrated  Edition." 

COMPLETE  IN  15  VOLUMES. 

The  size  and  form  is  most  convenient  for  holding, — the  type  is 
entirely  new,  and  of  a  clear  and  open  character  that  has  received  the 
approval  of  the  reading  community  in  other  popular  works. 

The  illustrations  are  by  the  original  artists  chosen  by  Charles 
Dickens  himself — and  the  paper,  printing,  and  binding  are  of  an 
attractive  and  substantial  character. 

This  beautiful  new  edition  is  complete  in  15  volumes — at  the 
extremely  reasonable  price  of  $1.50  per  volume,  as  follows : — 

I.— PICKWICK  PAPERS  AND  CATALOGUE. 

2. — OLIVER  TWIST UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER. 

3.— DAVID   COPPERFIELD. 

4.— GREAT  EXPECTATIONS.— ITALY  AND  AMERICA. 

5.— DOMBEY  AND  SON. 

6. — BARNABY  RUDGE  AWD  EDWIN  DROOD. 

7- — NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

8. — CURIOSITY  SHOP  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 

9. — BLEAK  HOUSE. 
10.— LITTLE  DORRIT. 
II.— MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT. 
12.— OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 
13.— CHRISTMAS   HOOKS.— TALE   OF  TWO   CITWS. 

14. — SKETCHES  BY  BOZ  AND  HARD  TIMES. 
15. — CHILD'S  ENGLAND  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 

The  first  volume — Pickwick  Papers — contains  an  alphabetical 
catalogue  of  all  of  Charles  Dickens'  writings,  with  their  positions 
in  the  volumes. 

This  edition  is  sold  by  Booksellers,  everywhere — and  single  speci- 
men copies  will  be  forwarded  by  mail,  postage  free,  on  receipt  of 
price,  $1.50,  by 

G,  W,  CARLETON  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

Madison  Square,  New  York. 


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work  —  aensiblo.  Inetrn-jtive.  anil  fell  of  PUfrgei-tions  valuable  to  every  en*  «rix> 
desires  to  be  either  a  good  Uilker  or  listener.  or  who  wishes  lo  appear  to  adnn 
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ITIUNTIOH   IN  CGinrEBSATION.—  SAT- 

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OENSUKE.  -  -  FAULT-FINDING.  —  BOOT- 
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MODESTY. — COBBECT        liANOaAOE. — 

SELF-INSTBUCTION.-MISCELLANEOU* 
KNOWLEDGE.  —  LANGUAGES. 


STORIKS.-ANF.CDOTEB.-Qt'ESTIONINa. 
-LIBERTIES  -IMPUDENCE.--  STARING. 

-DISAOBEEABLK      SUBJECTS.  —  SEL- 

II.—  The  iiabil*  of  Good  Society. 

A  Handbook  for  Ladiep  nnd  Gentlemen.  With  thought*,  hints,  and  anecdotes 
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GENTLEITEJJ'S  PREFACE. 

LADIES'  PBEFACK. — FASHIONS. 

THI.UHKTH  os  SOCTKTT. 

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DINNER  HABITS. — CABVINO. 
MANNERS  AT  SUPPKB. — BAUA 
MOBSINQ  PABTJEB.  -PKJNIC*. 

EvKiiiN'o  1*  \UTIKS DANCES 

PUIVATE   TUEATItlCALS. 

KECKPTIONS.  — KNGAOEMENTS. 
MABBIAUE  CKBEMONIKS 
INVITATIONS.— DKKSSES. 

BlUDKSMAIDS.  — 1'ltr.SENTS. 

TBAVELLINQ  ETIQUEITE. 
PCBLIO  PROMENADE. 
COUNTRY  VISITS.— CUT  Visirs. 


III.— Arts  of  Writing,  Reading    and  Spe:tkiiifr. 

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READING  &  THINKTKO. — LANGUAGE. — !  SAT.— WHAT  NOT  TO  BAY. — How  TO 
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ING  A  SPEECH.—  FIRST  LESEONS.—  PUB 
tie  SPKAKING.—  DELIVERY..  ACTION. 
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PTTLPIT. — COMVOKI- 


WHAT  TO  AVOID. — LETTKR  ' 

PRONUNCIATION. — EXPRESSION. — TONE 

RELIGIOUS  '  READINGS. — THE  PIBLE. — 

PRAYERS  — DBAMAT.C  P.EADiN8s.-Ti 

ACTTOB  &  READFB. — FOUNDATIONS  KOH  Hr/Mou.— Tii^PLATyoBM.— CONSTBUO- 

O&ATOBX     AND    SPEAKING. — WHAT    TO  |  TION    OF   A  SPEECH. 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


1197* 


Form  L9-32m-8,'57(,C8680s4)444 


PS 

3007 
H95 
1875 


